


Tarnished Heroes

by Artemis_sagitta_graphia



Category: Being Human (UK), Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: A little plot?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cussing, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, F/M, Far Harbor Characters, Headcanon, I tried to stay lore friendly, Inspired by Being Human (UK), New Creatures, None of the characters though, Semi-lore friendly, Slow Burn, Violence, borrowed Mitchell's name :D, it didn't work out too well, lots of fluff, tags were better the first time I posted ;P
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-30 05:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13943304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_sagitta_graphia/pseuds/Artemis_sagitta_graphia
Summary: I'm re-posting this from last year (from before my computer got hacked.)It may take a while to finish it, since I've got other stories going right now. Hopefully it will be complete by end of this year.This is.....different, so be aware and be prepared to say "WTF?" :DCanon divergence - no Blind Betrayal confrontation (yet?) - Sole takes Danse and runs - The search for answers begins.~~~~ Dialogue Heavy ~~~~ apologies in advance (^_^)





	1. Wake Up

 

 

" _That's_ Watchers' Wake?"

The awe in her companion's voice made her grin. "That's it."

Watchers' Wake had been built on a small island about a days' walk north of Lynn Woods, in what used to be the Willowdale State Forest. There was an old mansion house on the edge of the woods that had made it through the nuclear fallout with little damage, and had been turned from an event location during the Great War, to a settlement that now housed dozens of people.

She knew this, because she'd been part of the team that had begun its transformation.

The Ipswich River had re-routed during the nuclear attack, the roads and ground breaking and giving way to the water as it horseshoed around the house. Most of the main road had broken apart, but a stone bridge of sorts had been constructed to provide a safe path in case the water continued to encircle it.

They'd spent months starting the settlement, thick walls of stone and wood were erected to protect the inhabitants from outsiders, and sturdy cabins built around the perimeter for housing and workshops.

But Petra could see that the tiny settlement she'd left nearly a year before had grown in size during her time away, and even she was astonished at the sheer impressiveness of it now. She spotted several improvements to the little community before they'd even made it across the bridge. Namely, the double-doored main gate and three-story guard tower next to it, with several shorter towers spaced evenly around the circumference of the wall.

As they moved up to the great wooden gate, Petra and her companion could see guards moving in the towers, and hear the mumbled sound of voices and echoing of hammering coming from inside the walls.

"Hail in the tower!" Petra called out as they stopped in front of the massive gates. "May we enter?"

Petra lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the evening sun as it faded into an orange glow descending to the horizon, and peered into the growing shadows that steadily enveloped the guard tower in darkness. Nothing but a faint silhouette of the guard there could be seen.

"Depends," a woman's voice replied. "What's your business here?"

"Visiting friends."

A rifle barrel slid over the wall of the guard tower and pointed down at them.

"Not you - the one in the suit."

It was said with a low growl, clear and pointed so that there was no mistake that it wasn't Petra that wasn't welcome, and she looked over at her companion in his full set of T-60 power armor, face hidden beneath the helmet.

"He's with me," she smiled softly, her head tilting back so the woman could see her face. "I promise he won't try anything."

A moment of silence passed before the guard replied, clearly unconvinced by Petra's vow.

"The problem with promises is that even wolves can smile when one is made."

Petra's full lips split into a deep grin. "Yet the promise of a lamb is one on which you can count." She'd had this conversation before.

"It's not the lamb that worries me," the woman touted, "so much as the garbage can it's standing next to."

Petra laughed loudly before telling the soldier to holster his weapon. He did so, very reluctantly.

"Good enough? Come on, open up. I'm starving and exhausted!" laughter still bubbling in her voice.

"He leaves his garbage can in the guard shack, or he goes back the way he came."

The man balked at that, refusing to relinquish his adored metal suit.

"Danse, you have to," she compelled in a hushed tone. "We need their help, and if you don't show them a little trust, then they aren't going to show us any."

He grumbled but gave in, and the pair was finally let through the gate.

As they moved inside, the woman pointed to the guard shack door, her rifle never leaving the metal-suited form.

"Find a corner in there."

Petra waited while her companion removed his helmet and moved toward the shack, watching the guard with an easy gaze and calm movements, studying the woman's reactions. She smiled knowingly when the woman's almond shaped eyes widened ever-so-slightly in surprise at the sight of Danse's face.

He was, after all, an attractive man.

The woman waited until the soldier disappeared inside to turn to Petra.

"What the hell is he doing here, and what the hell are you doing with a Brotherhood soldier?" accusation lucid and dripping in her voice.

Petra sighed. She should have known Everly wouldn't miss the faded white logo on Danse's chest plate.

"It's a long story, Ev, and I promise I'll tell you all about it, but right now we need food and a place to crash."

She gave Petra a suspicious once-over and her jaw clenched. "I don't like this, Petra. Not one bit," and her eyes slid back to the shack door as the man exited without his metal suit. When he joined them, she gave him a warning. "One false move, even a hint of harm towards one of my people, and you won't have to worry about getting that suit back. Understood?"

He glared at her, his sharp eyes relaying displeasure at the situation on more than one level. He didn't like being threatened, didn't like being without his protective suit, nor had he wanted to be there to begin with. That was fine. He could hate it all he wanted. But it was their settlement, their rules, and Petra was just glad that he chose not to argue.

"Affirmative."

His grumble held far more disgruntlement than simple annoyance, but it was promptly ignored as Everly turned and led them across the great dirt yard towards the main house then. Keeping them both in her line of sight, she walked them through a few short hallways into the large dining hall.

"You can grab whatever is in the kitchen cook pot, or prepare something yourself."

Petra nodded and grinned. "As long as Winston didn't make it, I'll save myself the effort of cooking."

Winston had been one of the first people to arrive in those early days of the settlement. An old man even then, he'd been an asset to everything she and Everly had set to do for the little community. He'd taught them how to build sturdier houses, set up irrigation for the crops, waste removal for human and animal, and countless other things they would never have figured out on their own.

He had quickly become like a father to them, treating them both like the daughters he'd always wanted but never had the chance to have... but he couldn't cook worth a damn.

Everly looked over at her, face drawn and uneasy. "He died a few months back."

Petra felt the prickle of sadness stab at her heart and she quickly looked away toward the kitchen area, willing herself not to cry at the news.  
Winston had been a good man, an unwavering supporter for them both, and his loss was something they would both feel until they took their last breath.

"I'm going to go see about a place for you to sleep."

Petra nodded and offered thanks before walking off to find food, Danse at her heels.

 

* * *

 

The laser rifle at his back did far too little to comfort him as Danse had followed Petra inside the stone-walled building. He had little to no knowledge of the area, knew nothing of its inhabitants, and most certainly didn't appreciate being ordered to exit the most precious possession the Brotherhood had ever given him.  He felt awkward and vulnerable without it.

Mortal.

This repeating thought set his nerves on edge.

The situation he now found himself in was precarious and deeply disturbing. Not just because he couldn't take comfort in the safety of his power armor, but more so due to the recent illumination of what he was. A fake, and a lie.

A traitor.

He knew it, and the Brotherhood knew it. Soon, the whole Commonwealth would know it, and he would be hunted down by fellow soldier and bounty hunter alike. The fact that he hadn't known what he was until the truth was found would mean nothing to anyone. No one would care that he wasn't a traitor by choice or prior knowledge. Simply existing made him the enemy.  
A monster... And monsters deserved to die.

He felt Petra's eyes on him as he pushed his spoon around in his bowl, but he wasn't in the mood to talk. Neither did he raise the spoon to his lips to eat. He wasn't hungry, and hadn't attempted to eat.

How could he, with his stomach threatening to wretch at the very thought of his true identity? Besides, starving to death would be pleasant compared to facing his former commanding officer and seeing the disappointment - nay, disgust - on Arthur's face some day.

There was no going back, but he had no idea how to move forward, either. Not that he truly wanted to.

Petra had convinced him not to give up; not to give in, nor take his own life. She needed him. Needed his guidance and support, and he wasn't going to be so selfish as to end his own suffering while she still searched for a way to stop their enemy. Yet it did nothing to diminish the guilt that weighed on him like coat of iron chains. If not for her, he would have already ended this insanity.

"It'll get easier, I promise."

Petra's soft voice, usually soothing like the gentle touch of her perfect skin, did nothing to settle him now. He appreciated her words, but doubted them all the same.

How would it get easier? Would it get easier to accept that he wasn't human? Would it get easier to tell people that he was an abomination? To hide from the people that he once called family? To battle against them to stay alive for the golden-haired beauty that needed him more than he needed an end to his agony? When would it get easier? How long could he continue to live and breathe, knowing what he was?

The notion that someday he could turn on her without so much as a second thought, was like a knife to his heart just waiting to be thrust through. The thought of harming anyone that didn't deserve it was bad enough, but if anything happened to Petra because of him....

Heartache boiled through him, though he knew it wasn't real. Maybe it was programmed, or maybe it was a glitch in the programming, but it didn't stop the worry or shame from eating at him since the moment he'd learned what he really was. It felt real enough; so much so that his chest physically hurt.  
Petra had argued with him after Haylen revealed the news, convinced him to travel north with her. She'd said that he'd be safe and that people would accept him, but he feared the worst. Most people were afraid of....

God, he wanted to vomit even thinking the word, let alone ever have to say it again.

Synth.

He was... a synth. An artificial, non-human replica. A machine of poor imitation, created by the Institute to do their bidding. Whether that was killing innocents or pushing a broom, he didn't know. But he was sure that if they found him, they would use him to destroy everything and everyone he now held dear. He couldn't let that happen.

"This was a mistake, Petra," he dropped the spoon into the bowl of soup, splattering liquid over the edge and onto the table. "I shouldn't have let you bring me here."

He stood up to go but she grabbed his hand and held firm. For a petite woman of five foot five, she sure had one hell of a grip.

"It wasn't a mistake. You have to give it a chance! Give _them_ a chance. There is no reason you can't have a life here with these people."

It was meant as encouragement, he knew, but it certainly didn't accomplish the goal. In fact, it only stoked the anger and guilt he felt.

"A life?" He pulled away from her more roughly than he intended and a hurt look speared through her eyes before she schooled it into a calm face. "There's no life for me now! My life was a lie, and that lie is over." His voice was hard and hot as he spat out his pain, and he grabbed his uniform hood from the bench at his side before stalking back through the house and out into the growing darkness.

Thankfully Petra didn't follow him, and the settlers were too busy preparing themselves for night to do more than glance at him as he passed by. He didn't know where he was going to go, just that he needed to get away. From people, the lie, the pain... He wanted to be free. Free of the knowledge of what he was, and free of the sorrow at all he'd lost. But mostly, he wished to be free from the fear of what he might do.

Life? No, he had no life, nor did he deserve one.


	2. Bottled Up

 

 

  
  
"Evening, Miss Everly," one of the settlers called out as she passed by on her way to the main house. She offered a smile and dipped her head briefly in acknowledgment.

Everly was her surname, but no one knew that, and no one had bothered to ask her otherwise for many years, so she left it that way. It was still odd to her ears, though. Her parents had named her after the place her father had been born, changing it to fit her gender.

Daelyn Kathleen Everly had been born in the midst of chaos and war, and the circumstances of her life had never changed much. She'd grown up poor, and lived on scraps for most of her life. There had been a brief period of grander things, but it had been a flash in a pan once she realized what having it cost her.

She'd spent many years fighting her way back to some kind of normalcy, and had finally found it in Watchers' Wake.

This place - with these people - she found hope, but it sat on a brittle edge, dangerously balanced between peace and upheaval. So far, she'd managed to keep herself from plummeting over that rim, but one false move could send all her dreams up in smoke. Though she knew every day of her life around them was a gamble, the arrival of the Brotherhood soldier made that all the more clear.

Petra didn't have to tell her in words that they were in trouble. The fact that her old acquaintance had sought retreat this far from her old home was proof enough that whatever they'd gotten themselves into, death was going to follow them. Their presence put the welfare and well-being of her people at risk, and that was not something that sat easy with her. But she had no right to turn Petra away. She'd helped build this community, with sweat, blood and tears, and she deserved a hot meal, a roof over her head, and a place to rest.

For how long though?

Everly had just stepped up to the front door of the house when the Brotherhood soldier came barreling out, heading towards the main gate. His long, muscular legs carried him quickly across the expanse of the yard, sullenness rolling off his broad shoulders. She let him go without a word, somehow knowing he was only searching for a place to be alone, but she found herself watching him nonetheless.

There was something about him that plucked at her senses; A power that seemed to radiate from him without effort or thought, and it teased a piece of her that she'd buried long ago. She couldn't deny that she'd been caught off guard by his looks when he'd first removed his helmet. Everly had no particular preference in what she desired a man to look like, but this man exceeded what she would describe as handsome. With warm black hair, rugged features and dark hazel eyes, he was breathtaking.

Unfortunately, that would make no difference. This wasn't the time, nor the occasion to dwell on his appeal, and she had a job to do. She gave her head a shake to bring herself back to task and disappeared inside.

Petra was seated at one of the long dining tables, an empty bowl in front of her, staring at the seat her companion had just left - his bowl seemingly untouched except for the mess of soup at its side.

"Pete says there are a couple sleeping mats in the old storage shack. I'm sorry we can't do better for you tonight, but this visit was quite unexpected."

Petra looked up at her and nodded. "That's more than I need. Thank you."

Everly grabbed a towel from the nearby counter and cleaned up the spill before taking the vacated seat.

"You can save details for tomorrow, but I need to know what the hell is going on, Petra. You know how I feel about being left blind."

Understanding eyes met her gaze and held in momentary silence.

"I joined the Brotherhood, Ev."

Petra paused as if she assumed Everly would start railing at her, but when she sat silent, the woman continued. "It was only supposed to be temporary, until I found Shaun, but..." She took a deep breath and chewed her lip in thought. "Danse was my sponsor. He's been good to me, Ev. Teaching me how to fight, how to survive out there. He's been patient and understanding, and even though his views haven't always mirrored my own, he's never left my side. I owe him my life, and now..."

Another thought-filled pause blanketed the air with tension, and Everly knew her first assumption was confirmed. The pair was on the run.

"What did he do?" The inquiry held no judgement. It was just a question that needed answered - for the more information she had, the better she'd be able to handle whatever came next.

"Nothing."

The frown on her face told Petra that she didn't believe that.

"It's true," Petra insisted. "His actions are not to blame. It's...personal for him...and I don't have the right to be the one to reveal why."

"The Brotherhood will be looking for you, then."

Petra nodded. "Yes. He's been branded a traitor and sentenced to execution. I refused to let that happen or be a part of that, so I'll be hunted as a deserter, and likely a traitor as well."

Everly's hand rose, knuckles to her lips as she rested her elbow on the table and digested Petra's words. This news proved that everyone in Watchers' Wake would be in danger because of them. The Brotherhood wouldn't care if there were innocents inside the gates, they would storm through to take by force what they wanted. That meant fighting, and deaths, all of which would be pointless and unnecessary. It could possibly be avoided, if she denied the pair refuge.

Yet, if she didn't help them, that made her as heartless as the filth that littered the wasteland. The Brotherhood would come searching, and they wouldn't take no for answer if denied access to the town, nor take them at their word that Petra and her follower were absent. They would break down doors and rip apart homes in search of the two. Even if the pair were not present, people would still be hurt, lives tossed into chaos and nothing good would come of it.

And Everly would feel guilty either way.

"I'll meet with both of you in the morning. He'll tell me the whole story, and I'll decide from there whether or not it's worth the risk to the lives of my people to let you stay. If he refuses, he has to go."

Petra nodded. "Fair enough."  
 


	3. Opening Up

 

 

It was just after breakfast when Danse followed Petra into what had to have been the library of the old house. The woman from the previous night had met them there, and Petra had introduced Everly as a friend from some point back in time - before Petra had met him.

As the ladies made small talk to relax, Danse took a chair next to Petra and used the opportunity to study their host a little more. He'd been too rattled and preoccupied the evening before to do much more than glare at her.

Petra had told him during their journey to Watchers' Wake, that when she'd left here nearly a year before it had been an ally of the Minutemen, but the settlement was not a part of the faction, as were many of the others Petra had helped establish around Boston. That seemed to still be the case, if the lack of blue flags and milita statues were any clue. If not, he could consider them allied by the presence of the black milita hat on the woman's head when he and Petra had first entered the main gate.

Said hat currently occupied a small table off to the side of her chair, leaving him to inspect the chestnut braid that hung over her right shoulder, and hazel green eyes that sparkled against the light of the rising sun that shone in through the expansive windows.

Her features were lean and slightly angular, giving her an almost otherworldly quality. Her complexion was clear and fresh, her exposed skin lightly tanned. She didn't look over the age of thirty, but the confident demeanor of her body language, the discerning manner of her eyes, and the easy tilt of her head, gave the impression she was much older and wiser.

He supposed that those characteristics could easily be explained by the determination, skill and savvy it took to survive so many years in the Commonwealth without losing body parts - or worse, her life. Yet something struck him as odd about her, though he couldn't pin down exactly what that was.

The air around her seemed to hum with something he couldn't see, smell or touch, but it called to him all the same.

The thought was ridiculous, he knew, but there was something about her that hinted there was more to her than just a toughness hewn by the wasteland. The faintest whisper of suggestion tickled his senses, that beneath the stern shoulders, proud chin and piercing eyes, there was something dark and dangerous. He could sense it in his bones, every fiber of hair on his body detecting it as an antenna detects radio waves. It exuded from her like a perfume, wafting around her in an invisible cloak. He was drawn to it as much as he was agitated by its affect on him, though he didn't understand how or why.

It made his already jumpy nerves feel as if they were being zapped by a live wire, and he didn't like the feeling at all.

The woman's eyes slid to his face and she offered a polite smile before speaking.

"As Petra knows, this community was founded so that people from all over the Commonwealth would have a safe haven; a place to seek refuge and aid. We're willing to extend that courtesy to you," she told Danse, "but I need you to tell me the truth. Why are you being hunted by the people you once claimed fealty to? Why should we risk our lives to protect you?"

He glanced at Petra before answering, weighing his options one last time before it was too late to keep his identity a secret. He'd known this was coming, as Petra had warned him of Everly's ultimatum before they'd crawled into their sleeping mats the night before, but it didn't settle the nervous rumbling of his stomach, nor quiet the voice in his head that kept repeating that everyone would look at him differently once they knew the truth.

That same voice told him to get up and leave this place, head west and hope the Brotherhood wouldn't follow. After all, he didn't deserve to be protected. But that would leave Petra alone in their crosshairs, and even if she hid out here, they would find her eventually. If he stayed, he could at least beg Arthur to spare her life when they were finally found, and so he ignored the voice in the back of his mind, and met the woman's gaze.  
  

He swallowed hard, dreading the words that he knew he had to speak if there was any hope of protecting Petra from Arthur's wrath.

"Information was recently discovered that revealed that I am not who--- _what_ I thought I was."

His eyes skipped away to stare at a knothole in the plank wall behind Everly's head, the words that needed to roll off his tongue producing a sour taste in his mouth, and he hesitated putting the vile words to voice. Every time he said it, the more real this became, and he just wanted it to be a figment of his nightmares so that he could wake up and go back to his life.

Apparently he hesitated so long that the woman decided to say the words for him.

"You're a synth."

His eyes flew back to hers before darting to Petra with an accusing glare. She knew how deeply this information had cut him. Why would she divulge his secret without consulting him first?

"She didn't need to tell me," Everly answered his unspoken question. "Nothing but that made sense to me when Petra said you needed shelter from the Brotherhood of Steel for personal reasons."

Danse looked back at her, registering the neutral tone of her voice and the accepting regard of her eyes, and confessed.

"It's true. I... I'm a machine."

Everly's kind eyes didn't move from his face. On the contrary, she seemed to look deeper into his and her head tilted slightly as she studied him. He'd expected her to show shock, or fear - or even anger or repulsion, but she merely shrugged and said, "Funny, I don't know of any machines that feel the kind of agonizing guilt and anger you seem to be going through."

"It's just programming," he argued, refusing to believe anything other than what the Brotherhood had taught him.

A brown brow arched in question. "Is it?" she leaned her elbows on the arms of her chair and splayed her fingers together.

"The Railroad seems to think synths have feelings and desires," Petra reminded him, "and I overheard one of the scientists in the Institute remark on their ability to dream, even suggesting they have a soul."

He snorted. "That's ridiculous. Synths don't dream, or feel, or think for themselves, Petra. You know that."

"Do I?" She gave him a hard look. "Tell me something, Danse. When was the last time your laser rifle told you it was hungry, or cold, or tired. I'll tell you when.... _never_ , because machines don't need food, or warmth, or sleep. But _you_ do."

He sighed. "I understand what you're trying to do, Petra, but the fact is, I was made in a lab and I simply should not exist."

"And yet here you are," Everly chimed in, "living, breathing, and letting the false beliefs of fanatics eat you alive from the inside out."

Danse looked down at the knees of his well-worn uniform, avoiding the gazes of both women that heated his insides and made his stomach churn. Why couldn't they get it through their heads that synths were not human? What did he need to say? What had to happen to convince them how dangerous synths were?

"Danse," Petra's voice was softer now, but he was feeling stubborn and refused to look at her, clenching his jaw instead as he continued to study the orange fabric covering his legs. "Nothing you can say is going to make me hate you, nor will I let anyone harm you just because of what you are. You're a good man no matter how you came to exist, and you need to accept that you have a right to live."

His former recruit had always been hard-headed, and he'd spent months - in vain - trying to change her beliefs on the beasts and monsters of the wasteland, but she refused to convert. She held fast and true, and had often turned the tables on him to argue her case. Her response now was no surprise, but it still made his temper sizzle and his jaw ached in effort to keep from yelling.

"If I were a man," his voice cracked a little as he fought to keep himself calm, "would I be a danger to the world because of what's in my head?"

"A tiny piece of technology in your brain doesn't take away your humanity, Danse," Everly said, "it's simply another method that allows evil people to control you like a slave, and you're letting them."

His eyes snapped up. "I'll die before I let them control me!"

"The Institute doesn't control others only by technology. They also control with lies and fear. Lies that they've leaked into the wasteland that synths are property, not people. Lies that synths can't think and dream for themselves, and that they don't have a right to live their life in freedom. They push fear into the hearts of the Commonwealth by replacing people with their creations and turn us against one another."

Everly rose from her chair and walked to the far window to look out over the landscape beyond, her back to the room.

"The Institute plays God, that's true. But a life is a life, regardless how it came to be, and life is precious. _All_ life. Human. Synth. Creatures." She turned back to face them and he saw a pained look skip over her features before she pulled her shoulders back and finished curtly with, "Even monsters."

She returned to her chair and he saw Petra from the corner of his eye, nodding her agreement. No wonder the two women were friends. They both held the same ridiculous views on what should and shouldn't exist. It was beliefs such as this that delayed the Brotherhood from accomplishing their goals. People like this that sabotaged their work and put roadblocks in the path of a free Commonwealth.

"If synths are allowed to roam free, the human population will cease to exist."

Everly snorted. "The human population has nearly wiped themselves out on far more than one occasion, Danse, yet here they are, surviving and reproducing as they always have. Do you honestly think some synths are going to make a difference?"

"Besides," Petra added, "once we destroy the Institute the synths won't be under their control, no more synths will be made, and the Commonwealth will be free to live without fear."

He shook his head. "That's not the point."

Petra shifted in her seat and stared at him. "Then what _is_ the point, Danse?"

For what was likely the hundredth time over the course of the last eight months, Danse sighed and tried to make her understand.

"Synths are machines. Machines are not alive. They do what their programming has set them to do. Even if the Institute is destroyed, these machines could be out there causing havoc, murdering innocents and obliterating the wasteland. They can't be allowed to endure."

"Is that what you're going to do? Kill, maim and torture?" Everly asked. "If you believe synths are the only ones that can do that, then you haven't been paying close enough attention to the wasteland."

Her intention was clear. She was talking about Raiders, Gunners, and other humans who kidnapped and tortured people for money or power - or more often, the fun of it. Humans had been murdering, pillaging, and harming one another since the dawn of time. It would never be any different, he knew that. But what they did to one another was nothing compared to what synths could do. How many Coursers would escape the Institute before the end of this mess? A hundred? A thousand? More?

No one really knew - not even Petra, who had been within their walls - how far their synth program reached, or how many abominations they had already created. From what Petra had told him, a new synth was created every few minutes. That was an awful lot of synthetic humans to try to fight against, should they ever attack. An entire army that could easily overwhelm and wipe out the wasteland, Brotherhood in their path or not.

And he was one of them.

It likely wouldn't matter that he didn't want to harm anyone. If the Institute flipped that switch in his head, he wouldn't have a choice. They could make him do whatever they wanted, and he would have no way to stop them. If they could do that to him - who had pledged his life to serving mankind - then they could just as easily do the same to every other synth who had escaped their clutches. Who knows how quickly that could happen?

"My intention is to stop this madness before the Commonwealth is annihilated for good. And to do that, the Institute has to be stopped. That includes me." His voice was stern and his mind made up. "And that's final."

He looked both women in the eye to let them know there would be no talking him out of this. His beliefs would not be changed, nor his decision altered. He would exterminate the Institute filth, all of its creations, and every monstrosity that he could find.

Every. Single. One.


	4. Routine

 

 

  
Everly walked the perimeter of the settlement as she did every day, checking the that the walls were in tact and in good working order, checking on people and needs before she headed out. Her daily hunting trips helped keep bellies full and the people happy, but it also allowed her the freedom to do what she needed to fully sustain herself.

Everyone may be able to survive without fresh meat, but spirits would fall, people wouldn't function to their full potential, and she certainly would suffer without the trips away from prying and judgmental eyes.

With her rifle in hand, her pistol strapped to her thigh, and her combat knife tucked into her boot, Everly made her way around to the guard shack to retrieve her bow and arrows. They were better for hunting small game, and wouldn't attract unwanted attention the way the discharge of a firearm would.

One of the younger boys in the settlement was playing with a beat-up toy car in the dirt next to the little garden where his mother was weeding around tatos. He was short and frail for his age, and the other kids rarely included him in their games. He was shy, but whip-smart, and his inquisitiveness always made her smile.

Today, he looked up at her as she passed by, and waved.

"Good morning, Miss Everly," his delicate voice always rushed with excitement when he saw her.

"Good morning, Josiah. Enjoying the sunshine and fresh air?" she stopped to ruffle his dirty brown locks.

"Yup. Goin' huntin'?"

She smiled. "That's right. Any requests?"  
  
Josiah's lopsided smile tickled her heart as she watched his eyes brighten.

"The biggest, fattest, most juicy radrabbit you can find!" he breathed eagerly. "You make the best rabbit stew!"

She chuckled and tickled his ribs. "Because I have to fatten you up!" His giggles echoed across the yard, making his mother smile. "Off with you, scamp. I'll be back later."

She watched him plop back down onto the dirt with his toy before she moved off, well aware of the set of dark eyes that had been watching her since the beginning of her routine. She met that gaze now, as she approached the gate, for he was sitting in the shade of the tower cleaning his weapon.

Everly wondered if she'd made the right decision to let him stay. He'd made it quite clear that he didn't want to be there, but was doing it for Petra. To protect her and help her fight the Institute. His attitude toward synths and synth sympathizers would likely cause arguments in the near future, when he learned what this settlement truly was. And it put others at greater risk, if he found out about them.

She couldn't blame him really. She knew firsthand what it felt like to believe that her life was worth nothing and that the world would be better off without her in it. The thought had crossed her mind on many occasions she wished not to recall. Maybe he was right, or maybe not. As far as she could tell, he seemed to be worth the risk, even if his beliefs clashed with her own.

It was clear that he was loyal. To a fault, if the continued allegiance to his former faction was any indication. He still wore their uniform, still spouted their beliefs and conducted himself like a soldier. She'd observed him in the early morning hours, putting himself through brief exercises while the yard was still empty.

He was distant, but polite to the settlers that spoke to him, and even though he was clearly uncomfortable around them, he'd offered his services wherever they were needed.

Everly also determined the man had a keen intellect and was far more perceptive than he let on. His eyes skimmed over the settlement steadily, watching, gauging, storing away information. Whether he did so on purpose or simply on instinct she couldn't say, but it was clear to her that she would have to be much more careful about where she went, as well as what she did and said in his presence.

His eyes dropped to his task as she approached him, stopping just a few yards away.

"I'll be working on the bridge this week. Some of the outer stone was loosened during the last storm and needs replaced. Mind putting those muscles of yours to work?"

He continued wiping down the pieces of his rifle. "Not a problem."

She nodded, though she didn't know why - he was avoiding looking at her now that she was close.

"I could also use someone with experience on the night watch. I have to send a couple men out to buy supplies and I need a replacement. You don't seem to sleep a lot. Mind taking their places?"

His strong hands grazed over the casing of the laser weapon with a fond touch, lean fingers caressing it as if it were animate. "That's acceptable."

The corner of her mouth quirked. He sure knew how to keep his responses short and to the point, didn't he?

"I've informed the guards of our arrangement," she told him. "Don't make me regret this."

He looked up at her then, his eyes hard but understanding. "I'll keep my word."

She contemplated his response for a moment, before nodding and walking off. A few minutes later she moved out the front gate and into the late morning sunshine, no doubt in her mind that he would do as agreed.

 

* * *

 

  
  
The whole point of starting the settlement and living in the community was to be a part of it, so her first kill of the day was always saved for the settlers. To do otherwise made her selfish and put her own needs above theirs, and that was not how she wanted to be remembered.

With three radrabbits in her burlap messenger bag, Everly moved through the sparse forest in search of her own meal. She wouldn't starve today, regardless of whether or not she landed another kill, but fresh game was always preferable to the smoked or dried food available back in the settlement. Getting by on jerked meat and vegetables was tolerable, but nothing could beat the feeling of zest that rushed through her, or the tangy taste of life that coated her tongue from the juices of a new kill.

Today that meal apparently wanted to be wild mongrel, for the beast came around the thick trunk of a tree as she moved past a burnt-out campfire, and it stood snarling at her with exposed teeth, fangs dripping with saliva. An arrow had already been in hand when she touched it to the bowstring and let it fly. True and swift, it immobilized the irradiated beast long enough for her to approach and finish the animal with her combat knife.

She stood then, to survey the area around her. It was likely that there was at least one other of the beasts nearby, as they usually ran in packs or pairs, but after a few minutes of quiet, Everly turned back to her prey. Irradiated beasts weren't nearly as satisfying as something free of radiation, but...beggars couldn't be choosers. At least not if they wanted to stay alive.

An hour later she moved through the main gate of the settlement and walked into the kitchens to clean her spoils and prepare the evening meal. She was chopping the meat into small chunks when Petra and Danse walked into the large room.

Petra's eyes were wide as they landed on all the meat on the chopping block.

"Wow, you really hit the jackpot today, huh?"

Everly shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary." She glanced up at Danse, who was looking at her with a strange expression on his face and focused on a spot somewhere near her right ear. "Something wrong?" she asked him.

"You've got blood in your hair."

Her grip on the cleaver handle tightened, but she nodded and kept chopping.

"Killed a mongrel. I tried to clean up, but it must've splattered farther than I thought."

Petra's nose scrunched. "I hate those things. Thankfully for me, I've got someone who doesn't mind the dirty work so I don't have to," and she hooked a thumb back toward the soldier.

"Yet you run into mirelurks with abandon and get sprayed by acid _every_ time," he chided her.

Everly watched their exchange from under a frowning brow, but said nothing.

The blond was smiling at him in pure adoration, like that of a child. "You know you love coming to save me."

Petra's sing-song voice caused Everly's hands to freeze as she stood at the counter watching them.

He snorted and mumbled, "Hardly. It damages my suit."

Everly's eyes looked back and forth between them, alert for signs to confirm her suspicion, and neither of them seemed to notice her interest.

"Well, if you'd upgrade and put that protective coating on there like I suggested, you wouldn't have to worry about that."

Danse shook his head and rolled his eyes, but the expression on his face certainly didn't resemble disdain or indignation. In fact, it looked a heck of a lot like he was about to break into a grin, though it didn't happen.

Everly suddenly wondered just what kind of relationship the two of them had. Petra had said that Danse was her mentor, which would explain the reverence and respect she held for him, but the look in her shining eyes was saying far more than her playful words divulged.

Petra loved him.

Did he know? Did he reciprocate? Everly couldn't tell.

Not that it mattered. They were adults, could do what they wanted, and it wasn't as if she could tell them it was a bad idea to have an intimate relationship. She'd done the same on two different occasions, though one had ended bloody and the other had cost her far more than the relationship had been worth.

She hoped they would have better luck.  
  
       


	5. Co-Workers

 

 

A few days after that torturous meeting, Danse had taken the night watch as requested, and he was just ending his shift as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand as he passed by his replacement and headed toward the small shack where his sleeping mat was. He scanned the settlement yard with half hooded eyes that opened fully when the front door of the house opened and Everly stepped out into the crisp morning air.

She spotted him immediately and walked across the yard towards him, smiling politely when their eyes met. His entire body tensed  of its own volition in anticipation.

"How was your first shift?"

Her tone was relaxed and he was taken aback at how friendly she was being, though he probably shouldn't have expected otherwise. She'd had well over two days to contemplate the announcement - or rather, his admittance - of his identity. Surely if she was secretly appalled at the knowledge of what he was, it would have shown by now.

"Uneventful," he answered less drowsily than he felt.

Her smile broadened. "Just the way I like it." She glanced around and then added, "I'll be starting repairs on the bridge this afternoon. Catch some sleep and then if you want to pitch in, come find me."

He nodded, knowing that getting more than a couple hours of sleep would be impossible. He hadn't slept well, or deeply, in years and the recent events certainly weren't helping.

Before she moved off, Everly swung her rifle sling over her shoulder and pulled on her hat, and said, "I'm having one of the rooms in the house cleaned out for you and Petra. It should be ready this evening."

A room sounded better than the musty mat on the dirty floor he had occupied the last few nights, but... for him _and_ Petra?

Not that he hadn't shared a room with her before. There had been several times they'd visited Diamond City and Goodneighbor that only a single room had been available to rent. Petra hadn't minded sharing, but he had never felt comfortable that way. His nightmares were a personal hell that he didn't desire sharing with anyone - or burdening them with.

"Petra should have the room," he declared. "I'll stay in the shack."

Everly looked back at him with a confused expression. "Um... I'd rather not have my people sleeping on filthy mats in shacks with more holes in the ceiling than a slice of Swiss cheese."

Danse's brow rose. He had no idea what swiss cheese was, but he understood the analogy. It was the 'my people' part that had him confused. Sure, Petra might be considered part of the settlement - as she'd been part of it from the beginning, but surely Everly wasn't including him in that group. He was an outsider, and a potential threat. How could she consider _him_ part of her people?

"It's fine. I don't need much."

Everly sighed, her eyes closing for moment in thought.

"Alright... there's a small room next to the pantry in the kitchen. I'll have Pete empty it and you can take that. Unfortunately, it's not  much bigger than a bathroom."

"There's no need for that," he assured her.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Like I said before, Danse, this settlement and every person in it is my responsibility and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you continue to sleep on a cold dirty floor."

She was dead serious, the tone of her voice clear and determined. It was probably wise not to argue further.

"Then I will be happy to accept it."

Her expression eased and the corner of her mouth tipped again. "Great! Now go get some sleep and I'll see you later."

And with that said, she walked passed him and went about her morning business of a perimeter check before taking off to hunt. He knew this, because his curiosity wouldn't let him rest until she'd disappeared from his sight.

 

* * *

 

  
  
The morning hunt had turned out a meager reward; One remarkably unappealing molerat had found its way into her bag, but after that, the gangly trees and overgrown brush gave up nothing more than the sounds of crickets and mutated frogs that hid among the mossy banks of the Ipswich.

She'd turned back home and dropped off her catch to the butcher, knowing that she would be feeling the effects of hunger before the day was out. That was fine, she could handle it. Hopefully she'd have better luck tomorrow, and even if she didn't, she would survive. There had been times when she'd had to go several weeks without sustenance, so she had no worry about starving to death in the next couple days. 

What troubled her was how her body would handle the lack of  proper nourishment after a while.

She would grow weaker day by day, until she would be unable to do little more than fall out of bed. Her instincts would diminish, her senses would dull - and those were the less bothersome details. The most dangerous repercussion was the intense need to satisfy the sometimes overwhelming craving, often at the loss of self-control.

If _that_ happened, the entire settlement would suffer at the expense of her baser demands. But she pushed the thought away for now. She'd do whatever she had to, to prevent a tragedy. Even if that meant risking eventual self exposure.

Everly had just grabbed the long handles of a wooden cart to haul a load of chiselled stone toward the front gate when Danse walked up and stopped next to it.

He'd changed into a pair of the cargo pants that Pete had given him, and a old army green t-shirt stretched across his wide chest. Everly couldn't deny he looked far better when he wasn't flaunting the Brotherhood's disconcerting uniform. That hideous hood and unappealing orange suit didn't do anyone any favors - though the cut of it hadn't been offensive in the least. On the contrary, the tight material had left very little of man's anatomy to imagination, and Everly hadn't been the only female in the settlement to appreciate it. She'd observed more than one lady eyeing the backside of him more than once.

"Let me do that," he offered.

Everly set the cart back down and waved a hand. "Be my guest."

Danse placed his laser rifle in an empty corner of the cart and took hold of the handles, lifting it easily. He followed her out the main gate and they walked to the far end of the bridge where a couple others joined them, and they all set to work.

Loose bricks were removed and replaced with sturdy stone blocks, and all the holes were filled in to the best of their ability. The two settlers chatted lazily here and there, and mostly kept a steady hum to the task. It was pleasant, and Everly paced her work to the others.

Danse followed instructions without complaint, and though he didn't participate in the conversation, she knew he was listening to all that was said - for his eyes were bright and alert, and he often glanced around from one body to another while he worked. She caught his gaze on her a few times, though he didn't seem particularly bothered by it. Not like she was.

Their eyes would meet, and she could tell he'd been studying her for more than a few seconds, but he'd slowly drop his eyes back to task, or let them slide off to scan their surroundings, as if he'd just stopped on her without thought. She knew that wasn't the case though, because she had felt his eyes on her far longer when her back was turned.

What was he looking for?

She recalled that he'd begun to watch her more carefully after the other day in the kitchen, when he'd spotted the mongrel blood in her hair. Did he suspect something? If he did, did he know what it was he was looking for?

They labored for a couple hours without a break when Everly finally paused to stretch her stiff and aching back.

"Let's take a break, Lads," she told them, wiping her damp brow with the hem of her shirt.

Jak, a young man with dirty blond hair, straightened and leaned on the handle of the shovel he'd been using to remove some crumbled debris.

"Bout time, boss lady," he followed her example and lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. "I thought maybe you were trying to kill us."

The other man, known in the settlement only as Case, retrieved a few cans of water from the cart and handed them out before removing his shirt and downing a can for himself.

Everly sat down on a large rock at the edge of the shallow stream, her boots already soaked through and dripping, and watched the others. The three men sat on the edge of the bridge, short distances separating them. Jak looked over at Danse and must have decided it was the perfect time to begin an interrogation.

"So, you're Danse," he started, pulling the man's attention to him.

"Yes," the tone of his voice revealed his opinion that the question was ignorant, but he didn't say more.

"You go by another name?"

Danse eyed him warily. "Not one that makes sense here."

Jak gave him a look of annoyance and continued.

"How long were you with the Brotherhood of Steel?"

Danse frowned. He obviously didn't like being questioned about his past, and wasn't comfortable giving out details about himself, personal or not. The more people knew about it, the easier it was for that information to get back to the Brotherhood, who could then track him down. But he couldn't tell people to mind their own business, either, or he would stay an outcast.

"Far longer than I deserved."

His answers weren't quite what Jak had been seeking, and the young man huffed and said, "Man, you sure aren't friendly, are you?"     

Case set his empty can of purified water beside him and broke in. "Leave him alone, Jak. He doesn't want to talk about it."

"I'm just trying to get to know him," Jak retorted.

"No, you're being nosey, the same as you do with every new body that comes through here." Case gave him a hard look and passed on his wisdom. "People don't appreciate others prying into their personal business, Jakky Boy."

"How is asking him about his work personal business? Everyone knows he's Brotherhood, and everyone knows they're after him." Jak turned back to Danse again. "So what did you do, talk to a ghoul? Make fun of the elder behind his back?" His voice rose a key in jest. "No wait, I got it! You befriended a Deathclaw!"

Danse's face flushed with anger, but true to his word, he kept his temper in check. Everly took note of his gritted teeth and cut in before things went too far.

"That's enough, Jak." Her tone was rigid and commanding, and Jak looked over at her in surprise. "Danse will tell you what he thinks you need to know when he's ready and not a moment sooner. Until then, drop it."

She hardly ever raised her voice to anyone in the settlement, and rarely did it sound as stinging as it did now. As an after thought she added, "And no more digs at the Brotherhood at his expense."

Jak swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am."

Everyone was quiet after that, with Jak avoiding everyone's gaze, Case fidgeting with his hands, and Danse trying to calm himself down.

Everly rolled her shoulders and finished off her water, letting her eyes skim across the land around them, regarding the light breeze that caressed her skin. It was still warm, though not as humid as the past several months.

The weather was beginning to take on the invigorating freshness of the coming winter, as late summer lazily drifted into the short seasonal change. The hot days wouldn't last much longer, and then after a couple weeks of mild temperatures the cold season would set in. Once it hit, there was no telling whether it would be an easy winter or a harsh one. The nuclear destruction of the Great War had done more than just decimate the land. It had changed the weather patterns as well.

Summers were extremely hot and lasted between six to seven months. Autumn came and went within the span of a few weeks, and Winter followed for the next three to four, replaced then by a Spring that was over far sooner than the wasteland needed. And that wasn't even including the extremely dangerous radstorms, the toxic particle showers, or the acid rain. Living in the wasteland wasn't easy on anything - people, creatures, or the crops.

She wondered what the next year would bring, assuming they all lived long enough to see it.

Everly glanced over at Danse then, wondering if he and Petra would still be around. It seemed more likely that he would succumb to his undeserved burden and misplaced guilt, and do something stupid - like turn himself over to the Brotherhood.

She held no illusions as to his daily turmoil, and was all too aware of how distraught and uneasy he was. The enduring loyalty to his former faction, and the shame of knowing the truth about his existence was a heavy weight that had him constantly second-guessing his choice to flee from them. The only things keeping him here were Petra, and the vow he'd given her.

Everly wondered how solid that vow was. If it were strained, or broken by his companion, would he continue to honor it, or would the strain of the truth push him to self-destruction?


	6. Beaten But Not Broken

 

 

  
After another few hours, broken by a couple shorter breaks, Everly called it quits for the day. It was very late afternoon creeping into evening, and they'd repaired just over half the bridge. As she stood inspecting the work they'd done, Danse placed their tools into the now empty cart and pulled his shirt back over his head, settling it in place as he made his way over to her. Jak and Case had already high-tailed it back inside to get food and beers, leaving them alone on the bridge.

She turned to look at Danse as he approached, and spoke before he had a chance to open his mouth.

"Thank you for helping today. It went a lot faster and easier with you around."

There was a twinkle in her eyes that either resulted from the happiness of simply having more work done that anticipated, or stemmed from the fact that it had been him that had done the helping.

Why was it the second possibility that had his heart thumping harder in his chest?

"Not a problem," he blurted out one of his customary responses without thinking.

"Will you help out tomorrow as well?"

His chin dipped briefly in affirmation. "Of course. I.... wondered if you have a moment, there's something I'd like to speak with you about."

Everly turned to face him fully and her shoulders stiffened. "Something wrong?"

"No, I simply wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier." He took a breath to steady his nerves and made himself say the words that had always been tough for him to express. He hated be indebted to people, and would have preferred to keep silent, but she deserved to hear it. "If your words were genuine, then I feel the need to say thank you for what you said."

Danse was aware of the easy breath she let out upon hearing his words. Obviously, she'd thought he was going to say something else, but what that was, he had no idea.

"They were sincere, Danse. You don't have to worry about that. But, you certainly don't need to thank me for it."

"That's not true," he declared. "Your opinion and approval seems to mean quite a lot to these people. They respect you, and the fact that you openly supported me might put that at risk."

He had no doubt that she understood his meaning - that when the people here learned of what he was, and that she had blatantly stood up for him, they would criticize her as a synth sympathizer.

Everly glanced away from him then, clearly feeling uneasy about something she knew but didn't want to say.

"Listen, Danse, the only way the people here are going to learn to trust you and accept you is if you show them you can be trusted. Earn it by being open and honest with them. They'll do the same in return, I guarantee it."

There was nothing more to say, and he pulled the cart back into the settlement as Everly walked behind him carrying their weapons. After recovering his laser rifle and watching her walk off to speak with others, Danse moved off in the opposite direction, seeking space in order to think.

Maybe Everly was right. Maybe if he showed the settlers that he could be trusted - that he was capable of being part of the settlement and would protect it and them as one of their own - they would stop looking at him as an outsider. But that implied that he intended to stay here and make a life among them, which he did not.

How then could he earn their trust and then, in good conscience, leave them empty-handed when the time came to retreat?

It would be as if he'd lied to them, pretended to be something he wasn't, and he couldn't bear that. He may not be human, but he still had morals, and being honest was one of the values he refused to violate.

But Petra wanted him to try to fit in here. Well, she wanted him to do more than just fit in. She wanted him to make it a permanent home - to start a new life as if he weren't a walking, talking abomination. He had no desire to do that. For what? To live for decades in the hopes no one would find him? To live in fear every passing day, praying the Institute didn't find a way to turn him into a murdering tool at their disposal? To spend every day of his existence alone, watching anyone he might come to care about pass on without him?

He knew that synths didn't age. At least, if they did, it wasn't the kind of aging that humans went through. He'd acquired damage to his... hell, he didn't even know what to call it. Was it skin? Knight Captain Cade had told him once that synths couldn't be distinguished from humans by any test that he'd tried, though Danse didn't know how that was even possible. How was synthetic blood unidentifiable? How did a synth body function so drastically better than a human body, but be completely artificial and mimic it entirely?

If his lungs needed air, his body needed food, water and warmth, and he sustained the same kind of injuries as a human, how could he live longer? It made no sense.

He was reminded that although exposure to radiation weakened him, the damage was far slower than what a human underwent. Yet it still didn't change the fact that his organs could be irreversibly impaired, and severe injury could very well kill him. He'd suffered through deep lacerations, broken bones, and even something as menial as food poisoning on occasion.

He wasn't immortal or indestructible, but he would exist far longer than any human he got close to.

"Hey mister Danse."

A tiny voice floated up out of nowhere, and he stopped to look for the source. A small rustling sound off to his left pulled his attention and his eyes scanned a pile of cut razor grain that had been heaped under a lean-to. There, among the shafts of sharp stalk, was the fragile face of the young boy he'd seen Everly talking to a couple days back.

"You're Josiah, correct?"

The boy's eyes widened. "How'd you know that?"

"I overheard it. What are you doing in there?"

"Hiding."

Danse's brows furrowed. "Hiding from what?"

"Garth and Emery." The boy peeked out of the pile and looked around. "Are they gone?"

Danse looked around, but saw no other children about. "It would seem so."

He watched Josiah clamber out into the dirt at his feet and instinctively reached for the boy's arm when he stumbled.

"Thanks," Josiah brightened.

"You're welcome," Danse replied and released his grip. "So why were you hiding from them?"

"They like to beat me up and play tricks on me, and today I'm just not in the mood to deal with them."

A thick, scarred brow quirked. "Why do they beat you up?"

Josiah looked up with an indignant glimmer and gave a small sigh.

"Hello, have you seen me? I'm a wimp and they know it."

"I see," Danse replied with a nod. "They shouldn't pick on you just because you're different, but if you learned to defend yourself then they couldn't do that anymore."

"Mom says I'm not allowed to use guns," the boy countered.

Danse rasped, "Of course not, guns aren't for children... But I wasn't speaking of that."

Josiah's brow scrunched in confusion. "Okay, you lost me."

He walked over to a bench and gently placed his rifle on it before turning back to the boy, pointing at a space in front of him.

"Come over and stand in front of me."

When the boy did as instructed, Danse lifted Josiah's arms into a guard position and showed him how to block punches, and how to flip an opponent. They spent the better part of an hour working at it, until Josiah was able to defend against most of the weak trials Danse tossed at him. When he felt confident the boy wouldn't forget the lesson, he ended with a pat to Josiah's shoulder.

"If you remember all that, and use it only when necessary, you'll be just fine."

"Thanks, Danse. Will you teach me more tomorrow?"

"Uh...." He hesitated to agree, since he hadn't considered that the boy would ask such a thing. "Maybe we should see how this goes before we try to move to harder lessons."

Josiah looked disappointed but breathed out, "All right."

Danse went to the bench and picked up his weapon, then walked around the rest of the perimeter, fully aware that Josiah silently followed a few steps behind. It was a nice feeling, but a sad one all the same, as Josiah reminded him of all the little squires aboard the Prydwen that had become like little shadows whenever he was around. He missed them terribly and ached knowing he'd never see them again, downcast at the thought that they would grow up hating him now.

A woman called out Josiah's name, and he replied, turning to Danse before he ran off. "Thanks, Danse! See you!"

He watched the boy run off, skinny legs carrying him faster than Danse had thought he could run, and he wondered if letting Josiah get close to him in any sort of capacity was a smart thing to do. No matter how much he'd enjoyed the boys' company during their short training lesson, Danse was worried that spending time with Josiah would end in disaster.

It was dangerous. What if the things he taught Josiah ended up getting the boy hurt, rather than saving him as intended? Or worse, what if he hurt the boy?

Maybe keeping to himself was the better option. He'd been lonely for the past several years, so more time on his own shouldn't make much of a difference. As long as it kept people safe, he'd deal with it.

Danse retreated to the old shack where his belongings were, and hid out there until Petra collected him for dinner.


	7. Choices

 

 

Petra lay awake in her room, listening to the sounds of the settlement at night. She stretched out and took a deep breath, thinking about   Danse downstairs in the room next to the pantry that Everly had ordered emptied - just so he could have a space of his own.

Petra smiled happily at that. Danse's well-being was important to her, but she wanted so much more for him. It hadn't been that way at first. Upon meeting him that day in Cambridge, she'd thought him arrogant, cold, and intimidating. But he'd proven how wrong that impression truly was.

Danse had taken a clueless vault-dweller - whose ideals clashed with his own - and turned her into a fighter; a soldier. His patience and guidance had been undeserved, yet greatly appreciated. He had risked his life more than once to get her out of trouble, and he'd put up with her crap with little more than the occasional reprimand and his habitual scowl.

Danse had earned a place in her heart, and she cared for him deeply, but...

The truth was that Petra's late husband was the love of her life, and no one could replace him. Danse deserved someone who could love him with unconditional devotion and affection. That just wasn't her. But Petra was fairly certain she knew someone that could, and she'd plotted their course accordingly.

It seemed that she had calculated correctly; so far, everything was working according to her plan.

Once they'd learned of the information on that holotape she'd brought back from the Institute, she could have taken him to Deacon, but... The fact was, she knew the Paladin far too well to think he would have cooperated with the Railroad agent, even if she'd begged him to. More than likely the pair would've gotten into a heated argument before one - or both of them - shot the other.

Then she had considered taking him to Sanctuary, but even with a great distance between the settlement and the Brotherhood base at Boston Airport, Petra just didn't feel like it was far enough. Preston would have done everything in his power to keep Danse safe, but there was just little chance of that happening.

Plus, Danse would have been a pain in Preston's rear. The militiaman had the patience of a saint, but even a saint would get tired of hearing Danse spout his nonsense about the Brotherhood and their beliefs.

She needed somewhere safe she could leave him. Someplace with people who would understand his troubles and watch out for him. Better yet, she could leave him with someone who had made it their sole purpose in life to make sure that everyone around her got the same freedom of choice. Someone with firsthand experience at dealing with the intricacies of being different - of living in a community where, while being similar, they were not the same.

She had counted on Ev taking a liking to the Paladin, and knew that the woman's need to protect outcasts would push her to be the one to take over his care. That was good, because Danse needed someone to look after him right now, and without Petra around, he'd need someone who understood what he was going through. Someone who didn't just pity him, but had experienced the kind of anguish he was learning to cope with.

Everly had gravitated towards Danse just as Petra had hoped she would.

She'd also hoped that Danse would be interested enough in Watchers' Wake to try to fit in. Imagine her surprise to find that her proud paladin seemed drawn to its protector. Petra had carefully watched the two of them, separately as well as together.

They were civil to one another, which in Danse's case spoke volumes. The soldier was aloof and reticent with mostly everyone, but around Everly - though he was still tense and quiet - he did seem more sure of himself.

But there was more to it than that.

Petra could sense there was an attraction bubbling below the surface interactions. If one of them would just reach out and make the first move, she had no doubt it would blossom into something beautiful.

Would either of them risk it?

More than likely it would have to be Everly who reached out first. Danse was not only too distraught over his identity, but the man was just downright stubborn about relationships to boot.

But at least now Petra felt comfortable enough to go looking for explanations. She needed to find more information on synths, and to see if she could learn more about M7-97.

Why had he been created? Was he the only one like him? Were there other synths in that designation series? How had he escaped? Were they still looking for him?

So many questions and only one way to find the answers. She had to teleport back into the Institute.

Sure, they needed to be destroyed. Petra would be the first to admit it. But before that could happen, she had to make one last trip under the false pretense of being there for 'Father'.

Danse was going to be pissed when she told him what she was about to do.

He'd hated it the first time she'd teleported there, and had made her promise not to do it again without him, but she couldn't very well take him with her now. Not knowing who and what he was. It was too dangerous. Someone might recognize him and then all hell would break loose. She would likely lose him forever, if SRB got their grubby hands on him. She couldn't let that happen.

Petra pulled her pillow beneath her head and curled into the fluffy mattress and cozy quilt, her eyelids drifting shut.

Was Danse sleeping well tonight? He hardly ever slept, and when he did, it was always interrupted by nightmares. Maybe she should have warned Everly about them before they'd headed to bed that night. Her room was just down the hall from Danse's new quarters, and if he cried out during an episode, it would be Everly who would hear him and go running to see what the problem was.

Too late for that now. Everyone in the house was already down for the night. Hopefully, they'd all make it through without incident.

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

Everly couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned until well after midnight, but still her mind wouldn't stop pulling up memories of earlier in the day - Danse coming off night shift, his eyes sleepy and his thick hair ruffled; Danse pulling a cart full of heavy stone blocks as if they were no more trouble than lifting a wooden crate of feathers; Danse with his shirt off in the hot sun of the afternoon, muscles rippling and sweat layering his torso in a fine sheen as he helped repair the bridge.

Case had already removed his shirt during their earlier rest, and Everly hadn't cared one bit. She definitely appreciated the sight of mens' bare chests, but she'd certainly never lost her mind over one.... Until Danse stripped off his and her eyes skimmed over his flesh, that is.

Dark hair covered his forearms, fading into the scarred flesh of his brawny biceps. His powerful shoulders flexed with every movement, causing Everly's stomach to flutter, her heartbeat quickening. It had taken every ounce of willpower she'd had to drag her gaze from the dark hair that covered his chest and gathered to trail downward and disappear below the waistband of his well-fitting pants. By the time the wooden cart was empty, the temptation to stare wantonly and find an excuse to touch him was nearly overwhelming.

Thank the stars he'd put his shirt back on. It had been the only thing that had stopped her from doing something she knew she would regret.

But as she now lay on the firm mattress of her bed and commanded her mind to forget the images and rest, her body refused to obey, and she found herself wide awake... and horny as hell.

There were only two things that could calm her once she was this stirred up...

The most obvious answer was sexual release, which was preferable but nearly impossible. The last man she'd slept with had been over a year past, in Diamond City. A bald man dressed in D.C. guard gear and wearing sunglasses. At night.

_Who did that?_

The next morning they'd come out of her room at the Dugout Inn where Petra had waited for her at the bar, and the truth had come out. The guard was no guard at all. He was a lying jerk that soon received the punch to his face that he deserved. And not by her. Petra had bounced off her stool and clocked him so hard his glasses flew off his face and skid across the floor.

Since that day, Everly decided that random hookups were completely off limits, which left only one alternative.

A hunt.

And not the daily kind. She needed a proper one - the kind that allowed her deeper self to emerge and blow off some bottled-up steam.

She slid out of bed and dressed, grabbing her knife and strapping her pistol to her thigh. She likely wouldn't use it, but it was better safe than sorry. Slipping her arms into her jacket, Everly left her hat on the dresser top and eased out of her room, down the hall and out the back door to the east wall. Making sure she was between two towers so that the guards wouldn't see her, she hopped up and easily pushed herself over the top of the barrier. She landed with a soft thunk on the outer side and trotted off into the dark.

The moon was in the last quarter phase, casting dim light down into the thin forest below. It was perfect. Her eyes adjusted quickly and she didn't have to go far before she picked up the trail of a radstag. She lifted her nose into the air and sniffed. It wasn't far away, likely bedded down for the night. Picking her way through fallen trees and old piles of dead leaves, Everly snaked around to flank the beast and heard it snort a warning.

It sensed her presence. It wouldn't know which direction an attack would come, but its instincts had alerted it do danger and it was trying its best to sound equally dangerous to its stalker. It wouldn't work on her. She was a different kind of animal than this beast was used to driving off.

Edging closer and closer, she could see the faint outline of the radstag's shaking body now, its fight or flight instinct slowly kicking in. The telltale sting in her gums told her it was time to strike, and she leapt. Over the boulder she went, dropping down into its cove and startling the creature motionless. There was more than enough time to sink her teeth through the fur-covered hide of its neck before it realized it was already dying. They both sagged to their knees on the moist ground, blood dripping down their chests.

Everly took in her fill of the beast before heading to the river to wash up, and snuck back into the settlement the way she'd left. There was still a few hours until sunup, and if she was lucky, she'd now sleep like the dead.

A small snort escaped her at the thought, and she quickly stifled further noise with a hand over her mouth as she tiptoed back through the kitchen toward her room.


	8. Nightmares and Monsters

 

  
Danse bolted upright, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath from the terror of the nightmare he'd just escaped. He could feel the thick drops of sweat dripping down his stomach as his face fell into his hands and his eyes closed. He tried to force the images out of his mind by squeezing them tightly, but it failed.

He didn't understand theses experiences.

Synths were machines, it was supposed to be impossible for them to sleep or dream. Yet his body grew tired after exertion, and his mind lost alertness and needed time to recuperate. Wasn't that sleep, or was it merely some kind of coded instruction that forced a temporary shutdown to make him appear human and blend in with society?

Regardless of which, whatever was causing these terrorizing memories to consistently haunt his mind was beyond his control.

All the decisions that he'd made over the past years that had resulted in harmful effects, and all the horrors and losses he'd sustained, tormented his mind. When 'awake' he was able to keep the burdens at bay. But when the control of his mind was removed during rest, those memories gnawed at him, tearing at his core and feeding the pain and guilt that troubled him.

After a few minutes his breathing returned to normal and he decided to wet his dry mouth. Rising from the bed to pull on his pants, he padded in bare feet to a small table near the door and picked up a stub of candle to light it. He didn't want to knock anything over on his way through the unfamiliar house.

He found a canister of water and a metal mug on one of the kitchen counters, and poured himself a large portion, downing it all at once.

Danse replaced the canister and looked out the windows. It was still dark, probably just after three or so, and he knew he should go back to bed and try to get more rest, but the possibility of having more nightmares had him walking to the old library instead. He'd seen a few books on one the desks that last time he'd been there. Maybe it would pass the time until sunrise when he could do his morning training.

He moved silently down the hall and across the plank floor to look over the titles, picking up one that sounded interesting.

_The Samurai, by Shusaku Endo._

Danse tucked the book under his arm and headed back to his room. As he approached the doorway, a dark silhouette glided past the library, startling him. He peeked out from around the frame. Moonlight from the bare windows cast the figure in a faint light, illuminating just enough details of the person's body so that he thought he recognized them.

"Everly?" He stepped out into the hallway.

She had just reached the corner wall  -where the next hallway turned off - when he spoke, and she whipped around to face him.

"Danse," she flustered, "I didn't expect anyone to be awake. I-- Is everything alright?"

He wasn't about to divulge the predicament of his nightly torment, or publish the fact that he was reluctant to go back to bed.

She'd think him weak and pitiful.

But neither was he inclined to lie. "I came out to get water."

He felt no remorse leaving the entire truth unspoken. There was no reason she shouldn't believe him, but he watched her face all the same.

"Oh," the word a mere whisper from her barely parted lips.

The flame from his candle threw a pale orange glow across the distance between them, but failed to fully illuminate her face, so he lifted the candle slightly higher to move the light closer... and froze.

His breath caught in his throat upon sight of the eery green glow they cast; her eyes seemed to appear as if they were reflecting the light.

_What the hell?_

Her face turned away and dropped towards the floor as she removed her jacket, and when she looked back up at him a moment later, the glow was gone.

Had it just been his imagination?

No, he knew instinctively that it was neither a trick of the light, nor hallucination. But whatever had caused it, whatever the reason behind the unsettling shine, it was gone now, leaving her face in shadows.

"Were you on watch tonight?" he asked curiously. "I thought your shift was tomorrow."

Danse didn't miss the revealing hesitation to her movements. His question, asked with no ulterior motive, had definitely made her nervous. Why?

"I couldn't sleep. Needed some fresh air."

He took a few short steps toward her without thinking, and it was then that he noticed her shirt was dripping water droplets onto the floor, her hair was damp, and her signature black hat was missing.

Had she fallen into a rain barrel? A brahmin trough filled with water?

"Why are you all wet?" suspicion in his voice, his eyes narrowed as they scanned her up and down.

Another hesitation. "I told you," a cool tone shaded her reply, "I went out...took a walk down to the river."

Danse felt the scowl that furrowed his brow and tugged down the corners of his mouth.

"After midnight? Alone? Why would you leave the settlement like that?"

He watched her jaw clench and her body language shifted from anxious to defensive.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," she fumed, a hard edge to her voice. He watched her turn on her heel and disappear around the corner, her bedroom door clicking closed a few seconds later.

He stood there dumbfounded, considering her appearance and her responses to his questions. As he contemplated the details, a sudden sensation of dread passed through him.

What if she was an Institute spy? What if she had reported his location to them? Or maybe she was selling him and Petra out to the Brotherhood...

Danse hated to suspect such a thing from someone that Petra considered a friend and ally, but he really couldn't fathom another explanation for the current state of her condition.

Should he wake Petra and inform her of what he'd seen, or should he wait? It was nearly sunrise, after all. A few hours and he'd see her at breakfast. Then he could pull her off to the side and tell her about Everly's after-hours jaunt, briskly gather their things and be off before anyone was aware they were leaving.

He retreated to his room and stuffed his things into his pack and sat down with his book to wait out the time.

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

  
Petra was genuinely bewildered by Danse's behavior as he pulled at her elbow and insisted that she follow him into an empty room. She watched him in silence as he shut the door behind them, eyebrow cocked as she waited for him to speak.

"I think we need to leave here. Now."

"Whyyy?" she drawled out.

A look of impatience splashed across his face before he answered, "We may be in danger."

Petra chuckled. "We're _always_ in danger, Danse."

"No!" he said sharply, and she flinched. "I mean, I think someone here has _put_ us in danger. Purposely."

She eyed him, unconvinced. "Who? And, why?"

A shadow passed over his face and she was aware now that he looked worried. He told her then about his run-in with Everly during the early morning hours, and she laughed.

"I don't find this a bit humorous," he spit.

"I'm sorry," the chuckles trailing off as she put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you think it's bad, but it's just a misunderstanding."

Petra honestly didn't think it was a big deal, but Danse was definitely agitated. He stood there glaring at her grumpily as if he couldn't believe she wasn't taking this more seriously.

"Getting executed because we were given up by your so-called 'friend', isn't what I'd call a misunderstanding."

Petra went to the door and called for the woman. The sounds of people talking in the kitchen, the scratches of chairs on the wooden floors and boots tramping across the planks glided down the hall to their ears as moments passed. Then finally, a set of footfalls grew louder, until Everly stepped into the room.

"You'll want to close that door," Petra told her.

Everly's gaze drifted over Danse before settling on Petra's face. "All right," she complied and pushed it until it clicked behind her. "What's this about?"

Petra took in a breath and said, "Danse thinks you're a spy and you've ratted on us."

Everly curtly threw him a dirty look. "I see. And what do you think?"

"You know what I think. I also think there's a reasonably innocent explanation for his reaction last night, considering his latest turmoil. Why don't you tell him the real reason for your midnight escapade, so he can come to the correct conclusion."

"You can't seriously be giving her time to come up with a lie," Danse scoffed in disapproval.

"Hush," she hissed back, continuing to eye her friend. Everly plainly didn't want to give herself up, but what choice did she have? If Danse didn't know the truth, how could he ever learn to trust the woman completely? "It's now or never, Ev. You've always said it takes trust to earn trust. Stop talking the talk and walk the walk."

Petra waited for the woman to speak, her arms crossed and her stance wide. She was the authority for this conversation, and she wanted them both to know it.

She watched Everly's eyes flit back and forth between them in apprehensive consideration before sighing heavily.

"Fine," her tone unhappy and nervous. She looked at Danse with pinched lips and took a deep breath. "The reason I came in with wet clothes is that I was out hunting last night and had to clean up down by the river."

Danse was baffled, his face a mask of disbelief. "That's preposterous. You can't hunt at night."

"That's incorrect. _Normal_ people can't hunt at night, _I_ can."

He shook his head in confusion and gave Petra a pleading look.

Everly closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead briefly. "Okay, look... I warn you that what I'm about to show you is going to be upsetting and difficult to understand, but I swear to you I'm not a threat."

Petra watched Danse's entire body shiver before he steeled himself in trepidation, his eyes round and alert.

With her back barring the door, Everly lifted her top lip at the corners, showing Danse her teeth. Suddenly, two razor sharp fangs descended from the pink gums above her canines and he physically took a step back in shock, his hands lifting as a defense mechanism.

"What in God's name _are_ you?" his eyes were as round as tires and the expression on his face was one of horror and disgust.

Petra reached out and touched his arm to reassure him and breathed....

...

...

"She's just a vampire."

 

 

 

* * *

 

  
_Just a vampire?_

........

"What the FUCK?" was all his mind could manage to find that tangibly transferred to his tongue.

Petra's eyes rounded in surprise. She'd never really heard him cuss, other than the occasional 'damn' or 'son of a bitch' as he cursed wasteland abominations.

Neither of those seemed to appropriately cover his feelings on the circumstances here.

Danse knew he looked sickened and enraged by Everly's revelation and Petra's words. He couldn't help it. He'd never heard of a vampire before, let alone _seen_ one.

How had Petra thought he'd react?

Everly had rightly assumed that he'd be shaken and appalled by her - that's why she'd warned him in the first place. It didn't stop the sight of a second set of canines sliding down from under her lip any easier to handle, though.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that it freaked him the hell out, either.

"It's okay, Danse," Petra tried to comfort him as he watched Everly drop her hands and stand there waiting for him to adjust.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," Everly said softly, her eyes full of regret that he told himself was nothing more than pretense.

He just stood there staring, not knowing what to do or say next, unsure of whether he wanted to hurl insults at her for hiding the fact that she wasn't human, start asking questions about how she came to be this way and what she could do, or just shoot her down for the monstrosity she was.

It occurred to him then, that the glowing eyes he'd seen had been part of it, and he wondered what else he'd seen that he hadn't connected to being something other than ordinary.

"Do they know?" he was finally able to mutter.

"The settlement?" she asked and shook her head when he nodded. "Do you think they'd be comfortable being protected by a monster?"

Well, at least she recognized herself as the abomination she was, and didn't claim to be human. It wasn't going to earn her any points with him though.

He grew more confident as he realized that the fangs had retracted and Everly looked like her everyday self. That, and the fact that his anger was beginning to swell gave him the courage to step closer.

"You're a hypocrite; Urging me to be honest with them and tell them what I am, yet you've hid this for years...."

He might as well have slapped her in the face for the resulting redness of humiliation flushed across her cheeks at his words.

"You're right," she admitted, "but I'm too scared. If I tell them...when they see the real me, they'll fear me. Hate me. They don't need to and shouldn't, but they will anyway."

"They have a right to know!"

"And now _you're_ being a hypocrite," she threw at him, and his jaw clenched.

Danse knew she was right, but this wasn't about him. This was about Everly and the dangerous secret she'd been keeping. He glared at her now.

"I need to speak with Petra," he growled. "Alone."

Everly looked over at Petra, who stepped up to her and gave her a hug. "It'll be okay, Ev. You'll see."

_The hell it would._

He didn't take his eyes off her until she'd opened the door and slipped out, closing it behind her.

"You knew," he accused gravely, turning on Petra and grabbing her by the shoulders. "You knew, and you didn't tell me!"

He wanted to shake her and force her to explain herself. To rail at her that she'd promised to be honest with him, and yet by this omission, she'd left him vulnerable and ignorantly uninformed.

"It wasn't my secret to tell, just like yours wasn't."

"What if she had attacked you? Or me? I wouldn't have known what was happening." His voice was raspy, and he consciously calculated that he was beginning to panic. "I don't even know what she's capable of, let alone how to stop her."

Petra pushed him to a chair and made him sit.

"You don't have to worry, Danse. Everly would never hurt me, or you.... or anyone that lives here," she tried to convince him. "I traveled with her for a year and lived with her for months in close quarters. Never once did she try to hurt me."

"That you know of," he snarled. "She's not human, Petra. She's a monster. You can't trust her."

"You claim you're not human, but I trust _you_."

Danse grimaced. "That's different. _I_ don't have a second set of teeth."

Petra rolled her eyes and grunted.

"No, but you could rip me apart with your bare hands, and yet somehow that's safer than being around a woman who has saved my ass just as much, if not more, than you have?" She went to the door and opened it. "That's rich. And of all the people I know, _you_ should understand how uncertain and frightening being different than others can be."

She disappeared, leaving him alone in the room, glowering, stewing in contrition, and still lacking answers. He hadn't been finished with the conversation, but Petra's exit had certainly ended it without letting him get very far.

Now what? Petra wouldn't leave this place, yet he was more uncomfortable now than he'd been upon first arriving.

How could he walk around the settlement and look people in the eye - knowing what he knew now - and not tell them?

He cursed under his breath. How much worse was his life going to get before it was over?


	9. Accusation

 

 

  
Everly avoided Danse for the next several days, and Petra didn't try to make her do otherwise.

To be honest, it was probably best that way, because he was pretty upset by the whole 'Everly has fangs' thing. That, and the fact that he'd found out due to circumstance instead of a warning from Petra. He was so mad at her for not being the one to tell him that he hadn't spoken to her for an entire day afterward, and she knew it was because he felt betrayed. She didn't hold that against him.

Now, he'd finally come looking for her.

"I need answers," he said as he plopped down in the overstuffed chair next to hers, facing the door. Apparently he wasn't leaving his back unprotected these days.

"Okay," she glanced at him briefly as she pulled her needle and thread through the fabric of a torn pair of trousers she was repairing for one of the settlers. "What do you want to know?"

He shifted uneasily in the chair. "First, how did she become....that thing?"

The needle stopped moving and Petra let her work rest on her lap, ignoring his continued use of 'her', 'she', and 'that thing', instead of Everly's name. He was being a jerk.

"Well, it's a virus of some kind. She was bitten by someone with the infection and contracted it."

"When?"

Petra thought back to what Everly had told her so long ago. "Mmmm... mid 1700 some time."

His eyes bulged. "Seventeen hundred... The _year_?"

"I certainly didn't mean the hour," she snorted. "Yes, the year."

"But that would make her over five hundred years old!" he huffed.

Petra shrugged. "Technically, I suppose that's true, but really she's only thirty-two."

Danse sat there with a cynical look on his face. "That has to be false. No one can live that long."

He said it more to himself than to her, and she shrugged again.

"Yeah, just like no one can be cryogenically frozen for 200 years and wake up to a this lovely shit-hole."

"That's different."

"You seem to be saying that a lot lately," she scolded him. "I thought that with everything you've learned and been through over this past year, you'd have come to be more open-minded."

"Apparently I'm not as advanced or adaptable as you thought I was. Programming limitations, I suppose," he replied, smugly facetious.

She frowned and snapped, "Knock it off."

She was tired of him talking about himself as if he were a thing instead of a human being, and now he wouldn't let up on Everly, either. She had hoped he'd learn to deal with this and be okay with it all so she could leave, but this latest incident was a huge setback to her return to the Institute. As much as she wanted to go before it was too late to find answers, she knew she couldn't just disappear on him now.

He frowned at her and his voice hardened. "Dammit, Petra, I'm being serious."

She cast him an irritated look, "So am I!" and eyed him as he sat there in the plush chair looking like a scorned schoolboy.

"What does this....'virus' make her do? Why do her eyes shine in candlelight?"

Petra paused to put her knowledge into words that would make sense to someone who had never known of vampires. It felt a lot like trying to explain the Pythagorean theorem to a Deathclaw.

"Let's just say that her eyes are much like a cats', but I can't explain why." When he nodded understanding, she continued. "When that part of her is visible it enhances her abilities, makes her faster than the average human. A little stronger too. Pretty much all of her senses are heightened well-above ours."

A perplexed expression crossed his face. "And the...fangs?"

"Her body craves fresh blood, and from what she told me, the fangs are meant to make it easier to puncture the skin to get to the veins."

"What if she can't have any? Will she die?"

She examined him closely, and found that his eyes studied her intently. He truly was curious to know all about this, wasn't he? He sat there patiently, waiting for her to answer, and Petra's stomach dropped at a sudden thought. Why was he so interested in knowing about this? Was he looking for a way to kill Everly?

"I hope you aren't plotting to hurt my friend."

His eyes wavered for the briefest of seconds, but he held her gaze. "Of course not, I'm simply trying to understand how all this 'vampire' business works." He sighed and repeated, "So...will she die?"

Petra's eyes narrowed. She wasn't happy with the direction this round of questioning was going.

A voice from the doorway drew both set of eyes as Danse's last question was answered by another.

"Eventually."

Danse froze, his eyes dissecting Everly as she leaned against the doorframe. Petra wasn't certain how long Ev had been standing there, and from the tension in Danse's shoulders, neither was he. Moments passed in thick silence as the two eyed each other, neither moving nor willing to give ground.

Finally, Danse broke the quiet and asked her, "Are you going to tell them?"

Everly shrugged. "That depends. Are you going to tell them _your_ secret?"

"I'm not the one pretending to look out for them as if they're my responsibility."

"I'm not _pretending_ , Danse." Everly shifted to stand tall. "I helped Petra make this settlement because we both wanted to give people a place to call home. A place to live in safety and without fear of judgment or death just because of where they came from, or what they believe. I'm sorry that you are so off-put by the knowledge of what I am, but I'm not willing to risk frightening these people with information that will cause panic and do more harm than good."

He pushed up out of the chair now and stalked toward her, eyes burning with hostility.

Everly, stubborn as ever, stared right back at him and stood her ground as he stopped to tower over her by a good six inches, his shoulders tight and his chest heaving, tongue heavy with allegation.

"If you cared about them, you'd tell them the truth and let them decide for themselves."

"And if you'd stop being so arrogant and small-minded, maybe you'd see that there is more going on here than you care to consider."

His eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her jaw ticked as she vacillated between keeping her mouth shut and telling him the whole truth.

"Do you think I wanted to become what I am? That I asked for this?"

Danse deliberately refused to answer, and Petra looked on in sympathy as Everly physically deflated under the paladin's hard stare. It surprised her. Petra had always known Everly to be so certain of herself and her beliefs, strong-willed in her actions and decisions, but as she stood there in front of Danse - with his habitual scowl and critical eyes - every quality Petra admired in the woman vanished.

"At least let me tell you what happened," she appealed to the soldier's sense of fairness, "then, if you still think that telling these people what I am is the right thing to do..." she sighed tiredly, "I'll comply."

Danse continued to frown at her, then suddenly turned and retreated to his chair.

"Fine. But if I'm going to listen, then you'll tell me _everything_. _Whatever_ you've done, you'll tell me."

Everly grimaced, but nodded without hesitation, and moved to sit on the arm of the chair across from them. Her voice cracked a little as she began, skipping over the unimportant details of the exile from her childhood home after her father's death.

She told them about being sold to a wealthy merchant, and working in his large house for the next several years. About being cast out and taking a lowly position in a bathhouse.

A short while after her employment there she'd met Charles, a charming but no-good con man - though she hadn't known this at the time - and he'd sucked her into his world of deception and danger. She'd married him before she found out what he was. His schemes had gotten him killed; murdered she was sure, but couldn't prove.

It was because of her husband that she'd become involved with Myron. Charles had owed the man a lot of money, and Everly had no way to pay him, so he'd offered her the chance to work it off at his establishment.

For many disgusting and humiliating years, Everly had put up with the arrangement, staying only because she felt obligated to repay her husband's large debt. The day came when she'd felt that debt had been repaid - overpaid was more like it - and she slipped away with the few belongings she'd acquired, selling them off to buy passage far away from him.

She'd been living in squalor after that, when she was attacked one night. The results of that attack had stunted her aging, and bestowed her with qualities she wished she didn't have.

For the first three years she'd run wild, having no one to explain to her what had happened, or why she suddenly had cravings she didn't understand. She'd killed persistently to quench her animalistic need, and every kill since the first had haunted her incessantly.

It wasn't until after she'd been lost in a winter storm and suffered a broken a leg that she learned she could survive without feeding on people. For weeks she'd been trapped in a cave as her injury healed, and she decided then and there that she would never kill another human being.

Unless in self-defense, of course. And she would never feed from one, either.

Never. 

It was animals only, after that. And if she had to go without, so be it.

When Everly finished her story, she sat in deliberate silence, her shoulders pulled back and and head proud once more,  waiting to hear Danse's final decision on her next course of action. She had decided during the recollection of her past that she would face her fears and assent to whatever he felt was best. Even if that meant she might be cast out of the home she'd made here.

Or worse........

Danse sat in quiet contemplation, his face a stony mask. Petra couldn't tell what he might be thinking, or what he might be feeling, and she was very worried.

She needed him to fit in here, to acknowledge that there were other beings in the wasteland that wanted to live in peace, despite what they were. If he couldn't learn to accept that their lives were just as precious as the man or woman born into the world, then... was there any hope that he would want to stay alive once the Institute was no longer a danger? 

As things stood now, she knew that he planned on taking his life after his creators were destroyed. He hadn't exactly said those words to her, but she knew it all the same. It didn't take a genius to figure out how much he hated himself and despised his existence. Continuing to expel loathing for synths was clue enough.

If she was a believer in miracles, she'd start praying for one and hope Danse somehow stopped being a bigot in the next few seconds, because if not....shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.

His eyes never left Everly's face as he slowly came to a decision, his answer finally flowing out earnest and unhurried.

"These people believe they're safe here, and they believe so under a lie. They have every right to know what you are and to decide if letting you continue on as their leader is worth the risk. No more secrets. No more hiding. Tell them today, or I will."

Everly's eyes dropped to the floor and she took a very deep breath. "All right......but I expect you to do the same," and her gaze fluttered back up to his face to see how he would react to that.

His look was icy, yet he didn't argue, and Petra's heart clenched in dread.    



	10. Confess

 

 

  
  
Everly rang the bell at the front of the house, calling the settlers to gather for a meeting. Thunder hammered between her ears as she waited nervously for everyone to show up, and her stomach churned in dread.

What in the hell had she agreed to this for? Certainly not for Danse and his sanctimonious insistence that she out herself.

_Screw him._

No, she'd done this for Petra; Because Danse staying there was what Petra wanted - for his own safety, and with the hope that the more time he spent around these people, the more he'd come to realize that just because someone was different, it didn't mean they wouldn't be welcomed and supported by other people.

And she'd done this for the people of Watchers' Wake - because they truly did deserve to know the truth.

She grumbled under her breath as she realized she was standing there shaking nervously over the same thing she had  badgered Danse about barely a week past.

Why should she be worried that these people wouldn't accept her? Wasn't this difference among them the very reason Watchers' Wake had been established in the first place? Wasn't one of their principles here that everyone deserved a chance to prove themselves worthy to be a part of the community?

As settlers began to gather around her, Petra stepped a bit closer and squeezed her left shoulder in support, Danse standing just a bit farther and avoiding meeting her gaze. That was fine. She didn't need his encouragement to get through this.

About two dozen adults and a handful of kids had come to see what was going on, and Everly motioned to them that she was ready to speak, and cleared her throat.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you here this afternoon, and I know you've got things to do so I'll get right to the point."

She took a deep breath and continued, "This settlement was created to provide a safe place for people to call home; to raise families, and live in peace. To exist among one another in harmony and without judgement, no matter where we came from or how we came to be. It is my hope that that purpose will never change."

Everly watched many heads nod in understanding, others whispering their agreement.

"But some recent events have come to pass that have made it necessary for me to tell you that I haven't been entirely frank with you about myself. You see, it was my belief that this information was not only private, but irrelevant to the generosity towards one another, and community environment we've made here. But," she glanced back at Danse with a pensive face and wavered in her resolve for the briefest of moments before turning back to the crowd, "it's been decided that Danse and I both have something about ourselves that you have a right to know."

"Many years ago I was infected with a virus. This disease changed the way I sometimes behave, and forced me to adapt to a new set of needs and characteristics - the details of which I'd rather not get into just now. The point is, I am now considered to be what people used to know as a sanguisuge..."

Many faces in the crowd looked on in confusion, while others spoke to in low, rushed tones to their neighbors, and Everly had no doubt that they didn't understand what she was talking about.

"A vampire," she clarified.

More people began speaking out, some talking in shocked tones, others still puzzled and looking around for explanation.

"I understand if you're confused, frightened or even a bit angry at my lapse in full disclosure, but I assure you that I am not a threat to you, nor have I ever been. However... Because this settlement was meant to run as a self-governing collective and not under dictatorship, I understand if you're no longer comfortable with allowing me to continue on as the principal leader, and if my presence is no longer wanted, I will not protest if you wish for me to leave. It's up to you all."

Everly turned back now, motioning for Danse to step up and take center stage, trading places with him as she waited for him to speak.

Danse's face was solemn and he looked out over the crowd, a small cough of nervousness escaping his drawn mouth as he waited for everyone to quiet down.

"As you all must know by now, I was a Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel; enlisted from the Capital Wasteland many years ago to protect mankind. But it has come to light that my origins were not as I believed them to be. I was not born in Rivet City as perceived, nor born at all." His shoulders fell slightly as he stumbled through his confession. "I am uncertain how I came to be in the wasteland, or what the original purpose behind my existence was, but I am not human. I am a synth."

He paused, waiting for the reactions he believed were inevitable, but the people just stood there, watching.

"I didn't come here to cause trouble or create fear, and I offer my apologies for any upset my presence has prompted. I give the same vow as was presented moments ago - that if you wish for me to leave, I will do as you desire."

He stepped back toward Petra, and Everly could see that he was nervous. He likely felt as anxious as she about the coming reactions, as if their heads were on a chopping block and just waiting for the axe to drop and put them out of their misery.

Petra moved forward then, hands motioning everyone to calm down so they could hear her.

"You've all heard some pretty important and surprising admissions today, and I know some of you have questions or concerns about this. Danse, Everly and I will be more than happy to answer what we can. However, I think it's best that everyone sleeps on this information before a decision is made here, so that we can all come to terms with the news, and make up our own minds what we believe needs to happen from this point on."

No one in the assembly argued otherwise, though there did seem to be mixed opinions going through the group about whether a decision was even necessary. Mostly, the people didn't want to wait to voice their beliefs, and Everly's chest constricted in apprehension.


	11. Leniency

 

 

Danse stood in grim silence, wanting nothing more than to be somewhere other than in front of all these people, confessing his shame. But since he must, he wished he could be standing there in his power armor, the comforting feel of his laser rifle in his grip.

Unfortunately, Petra had made him leave his weapons in his room, and he now stood there feeling helpless and inadequate, as he waited for the inevitable accusations and sentencing he was sure was coming. Fear rippled through him at his exposure, but he held his head up, forced his shoulders back and met their curious gazes as Petra walked them all through this.

If she believed that this was the way to handle this situation - that he had stubbornly insisted on producing - then he was willing to trust her judgement. After all, she understood people far better than he did. She had a faith in them that he would never understand, nor likely ever share.

"We'll meet back here tomorrow at noon to voice our opinions," Petra was suggesting to them, "and decide whether these two people have a right to be here, and if so, in what capacity."

More murmurs travelled through the gathering and someone pushed through to the front. It was Pete, the settlement foreman. He whistled to get their attention and asked for their silence.

"I don't really see a need to put off a resolution here," he bellowed. "We all know what this place is and why we're here! What kind of people would we be if we criticize them for being what they are? We might as well hold ourselves in condemnation!"

A majority of the people were agreeing with the man - quite loudly, in fact - and still, no one outright disapproved, though some looked unsure.

"I say we call it to a vote right now," Pete advised. "All in favor of Everly and Danse having a place in Watchers' Wake."

Nearly every hand in the crowd rose, and Danse looked down to see a short, skinny arm poking up from the front of the bunch to see Josiah staring up at him - big eyes full of admiration and certainty - and Danse's heart skipped a beat in surprise at the overwhelming show of acceptance.

"All opposed," Pete offered a chance to dispute.

Not a single hand came up, and Danse stood in stunned disbelief, listening with his stomach in knots.

Pete raised his hand one last time. "All in favor of Everly keeping her position as overwatch commander and first council member."

Only a few less hands raised this time, but it was still the vast majority of people there, and Danse was utterly astounded by the amount of support and faith these people seemed to have in them. He simply didn't understand how they could be so trusting and tolerant of a monster, or a machine that was built to trick them.

Were they blind? Didn't they see what a danger he and Everly posed? Were the settlers ignorant to the liabilities the two of them were?

Pete spoke up, "Then it's settled. We've got work to do, people. Let's get back to it!"

Most of them seemed eager to do as Pete ordered, and they went off without a backwards glance, but a few lingered, sticking around to speak to Petra, or express their support directly to Everly.

A tug at his sleeve pulled Danse's eyes down. Josiah stood at his elbow, sniffling happy tears.

"Mister Danse? I'm awful glad you get to stay."

Danse's throat tightened and he glanced up at the boy's mother who stood a few feet behind her son, a tender smile on her face as their eyes met. He looked back at the boy and dared to reach out a hand to rest on Josiah's shoulder.

"Me too," he said, and silently acknowledged that it was actually true. The admittance took him by surprise, but Josiah's bright smile and the silent support of the boy's mother left Danse feeling uneasy and greatly undeserving.

"You were right," Josiah told him with a snappy nod, "nobody has a right to pick on us 'cause we're different."

Danse couldn't help it. A frail smile played on his lips at the boy's words and he nodded.

"Go on, now. I'll see you later," he choked out quietly, and watched as Josiah and his mom turned away.

"See? I told you they'd accept you," Petra said from just over his shoulder, and he turned to face her.

"I don't understand why, or how," he confessed. "It makes no sense."

Everly dared to step closer, and she and Petra shared a look before she spoke.

"Most people of the wasteland really don't care about whether someone is a synth or a ghoul, as long as they're willing to live together in peace. They've got enough to worry about fighting off Raiders, Gunners, and ferals. What do they care about some synths living next door to them?" 

"Danse," Petra gripped his hand in hers and added, "at some point you're going to have to accept that just because not all of the people in the Commonwealth are what the Brotherhood believes is the ideal human, we all deserve to live in safety and happiness. It doesn't matter whether we're ghoul, synth, super mutant, or vampire.... As long as we're willing to work together in kindness, and defend one another in times of trouble, we should have that chance."

Danse knew he was stubborn. He'd always been head-strong, but this newest affair was seriously making him question his beliefs - or rather, the beliefs that the Brotherhood had taught him. Of course, they'd merely made the statements - it was he, who had taken those beliefs and stamped them across his heart. He'd made them the backbone of everything he stood for, and now....

Now he was willing to admit that maybe - just maybe - he'd been wrong; It was possible that he'd been too obstinate in the ideology that there was only one kind of person worthy of being called human. Yet he still wasn't sure that meant he deserved to live.

"Danse," Everly's voice broke into his thoughts and he looked at her again, "since we're being honest and forthright now, there's something else you should know."

 _Oh God..._ There was more? His eyelids slid shut and he let out a shaky breath. How many more disturbing disclosures could he take?

"A good number of the residents of Watchers' Wake are just like you...."

He decided right then that he'd experienced far more than enough enlightenment for one day, and stalked off to his tiny room without saying a word.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Petra had waited a week after the public spectacle Danse and Everly had been through, before she decided she couldn't wait any longer. The clock was ticking. She'd already given the Brotherhood all the information they needed to attack the underground facility, and it would only be a matter of time before they broke all the encryptions and found all the Institute's secrets. A way in was inevitable, and it didn't take a genius to know that Maxson would order an assault as soon as he thought they could gather enough troops to win.

She needed to get back and find answers before that happened. Danse deserved the truth, and she was the only one that could get it.

"I'm glad you both decided to join me," she said as she set down her coffee mug and smiled when they both looked up at her, "there's something I need to say to you both."

Petra had invited Danse and Everly to have breakfast with her - to break the news to them, hoping it wasn't going to explode in her face. Though to be honest, knowing them both the way she did, Danse would do the exploding and Everly would seethe in silence.

She was prepared to handle both.

"I've got something I need to do and I'm not sure how long it will take. Could be a few days, or maybe a few weeks."

"When are we leaving?"

Danse's tone gave away his eagerness at the thought of getting away from the settlement, and Petra wondered what exactly he was ready to run from. The synth settlers? Trying to fit in with them, or something else? 

Petra met Danse's dark hazel eyes with a sigh of regret and they narrowed at her in suspicion.

He really wasn't getting any good breaks lately to promote trust, was he? This wasn't going to help, and she felt a stab of guilt in her gut.

"I have to do this alone, Danse. I hope you understand."

"No, I don't. I think it's foolish for you to go in there by yourself. You need backup."

Petra shook her head and saw Everly from the corner of her eye as the woman placed her fork down on her plate and picked up her napkin to wipe her mouth, seemingly unperturbed by the news.

"It's too dangerous for you, Danse." He continued to stare, studying her face with a hard look, but not saying a word. "This is a one-person job and I have to go, as much for myself as for you."

Everly was placing the cloth delicately onto the tabletop next to her plate when she spoke up, "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning." 

The legs of Danse's chair scraped menacingly across the plank floor as he dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter, and two pair of eyes watched him as he walked out into the morning sunshine, the screen door squeaking eerily on rusty hinges behind him before banging shut.

Everly rose and collected the dirty dishes, taking them to the far counter where she scraped the remains into a bucket before setting them into a dishpan full of soapy water. Petra watched her as she found a clean rag and began to wash them.

"Are you okay with this?" Petra queried in an easy tone.

"I don't see how that matters."

Petra sighed. "I can't take him."

Everly nodded. "Oh I understand that. They'd mind-wipe him on sight."

"Then you understand why I have to go."

"No, I do not." Everly tossed the rag into the soapy pan so hard that dozens of little bubbles spurted into the air as she whipped around to face Petra. "Are you blind? Can't you see how much that man is struggling? He needs you right now, and you're going to bail on him and leave him flailing in the wind with no anchor?" She made a little huff sound as she exhaled, "That's pretty selfish, Petra. I'm really not sure what's gotten into you."

"I'm doing this for him! So he can have answers; To know where he came from and what he was; Why he left in the first place!"

"Did you ever stop to think that given a choice between possibly losing his friend to find his past, and living in ignorance of his origins with you by his side, that maybe he'd rather choose you?"

Petra blinked a few times at the startling intensity in Everly's voice, the woman's hands on her hips in anger and a bright pink tinge to her cheeks. It had been a long time since she'd seen Everly this upset. In fact, the only time the woman had every really lost her cool was when they'd been ambushed by raiders and she had gotten a wooden stake through the leg.

"Yes," she acknowledged, "but I need this for myself too. To find out all I can, and then say goodbye to my son one last time."

"Oh," the color fading from her face, Everly's hands fell as she stood back. "I suppose that isn't quite so selfish," she nearly whispered.

"Thank you."

Everly turned her head to look out the window. "That doesn't change the fact that Danse is going to be lost without you around."

"He'll be fine," Petra smiled, "He's got you."

 _"Me?"_ Everly looked back at her in astonishment. "Ooooh no. No no, and another no. He most certainly does _not_ have me." She turned away back to her chore and picked up a plate to wash it clean. "I have no problem with him staying here - because that's what Watchers' Wake is for. I will protect him the same as I do everyone else here, but if he decides to leave, I will not beg him to stay, nor go after him. Not even for you."

Petra rose now to chip in and rinse the dishes, laying them on a towel to dry.

"He'll stay, of that I don't doubt. But he's going to need you. You're the only one who really understands what it's like for him; living as a human for so long and then suddenly forced to come to terms with being something else."

The woman snorted.

"As if he gives a molerat's ass about that. The man hated me even before he found out what I am! If you think he's going to start trusting me enough to talk to me about his personal shit, you are giving him way too much credit."

"And you're not giving him enough!" Petra grabbed Everly by the shoulders and made her look at her face. "Danse is a good man. I know that you know that. I also know that the two of you have chemistry - though you both resist it by playing dumb. You would make a great team."

Everly frowned in a long moment of silence so deafening that Petra was sure she heard the woman's inner Nick Valentine kick in to gear.

"You set me up, didn't you? You planned this from the day you found out what he was, and you brought him here and waved him under my nose. And good 'ole Everly took the bait - hook, line and sinker."

She pushed Petra away from her and snatched her hat off the counter nearby, plunking it on her head. Petra didn't answer. What would she say? It was all true, but admitting it wouldn't change anything.

"Give him a chance. You need him as much as he needs you."

Everly faced her one last time. "That ship is beached, Petra. It's sails were shredded long ago."

Petra replied as her friend marched towards the door, "New sails can always be made, Ev," but the words met empty air.


	12. The Needs of Others

 

 

  
A little over two weeks had passed since Petra had teleported off to undergo her fact-finding mission. Danse had been pretty closed off and mute after she left, taking on extra watch shifts to pass the time, and locking himself in his room when not working. Everly was fairly certain he hadn't been eating much, either.

It just so happened that tonight, their watch shifts fell together, and she was nervous about how he might respond to it. He always took the front gate tower, as it had more ground to cover and was further away from the other towers. Even with scopes or binoculars, the guards in the other towers didn't have a perfectly clear view of the front watch, allowing him more privacy on watch.

Usually there was one guard per back tower, and since the front tower had an extra level, two guards at the main gate, each guard manning a different floor. Danse normally took the lower of the two levels; Who knew that the hard-ass soldier who had flown in a gas balloon would be afraid of heights?

Everly climbed the steps to the second level and walked across to stand a few feet from him. His back was mostly to her, but she knew he'd heard her, for his shoulders had tensed as she had turned toward him instead of moving on to the upper level.

"It's going to be cold tonight."

Danse didn't reply, just stood there in an 'at ease' stance, laser rifle cradled in his arms, and scanning the darkness.

She'd never been good at small talk. Making nice chit chat with people was Petra's métier; Everly preferred to speak when there was a reason for it, and not waste time or breath.

Everly inhaled deeply and let it out very slowly.

"This whole situation is shit for you, I get that. But I'm not your enemy, Danse. I'm not going to beg you to talk to me, or pretend that I could take Petra's place in your life. If you want to go through this alone, that's your choice, but I want to remind you that - even though you hate what's happening, and hate me for being what I am - I understand what it's like to not know if you belong in this world; to wonder, if you do, where you belong."

She retreated to the stairs and started up. "Just know that if you need to talk, or ask questions, I'm around."

He didn't move to look at her as she disappeared into the upper level and Everly shook her head, wondering why the hell she was even bothering to offer to listen to him.

Danse wasn't just stubborn, he was inflexibly mulish to the point of self-punishment via a twisted form of asceticism. If Petra - the woman with whom he had a bond - hadn't been able to lure him out of his self-condemnation, how the hell could Everly hope to? She'd likely have better luck nailing jelly to a wall.

As much as she hated to admit it - which she severely and truly did - Petra had been right about her.

Ever since the day she'd accepted what she was - accepted her new lot in life and vowed to use it for good instead of letting it turn her into a murderous animal - Everly had been drawn to the suffering of others like a bull to a red flag. She supposed that it was partly a kind of penitence for those first years of her change, though she wasn't sure she would ever feel that she'd done enough to balance the scales. But it was also because she wanted people to have the support and understanding that she had lacked.

Danse didn't seem to want those things, for himself or anyone else. It made the entire situation more difficult to handle, and drastically uncomfortable, like a too-tight sweater lined with sandpaper.

There was nothing more she could do, so she stood at her post and focused on the job at hand.

Several hours into their shift, Everly heard a creaking sound from the top rung of the stairs and looked over her shoulder to see Danse. Their eyes met fleetingly, just long enough for her to see the uneasy stiffness of his expression, before she turned away to sweep her eyes back out into the dark world around them. The night air was chilly now, biting across exposed flesh like the delicate prickles of a needle, and the combination of it and the disquieting aura he brought with him, caused a shiver to roll down her back.

He came to stand next to her, barely six inches between them, and stood there wordlessly for several minutes. It was the closest they'd ever been, minus the times during the lectures and insults he barked at her.

"I have a bad feeling that Petra isn't coming back," he finally remarked.

She wasn't surprised by his words, not because she'd expected to hear them, but because she'd had the same feeling of trepidation for the last few days, and had considered sending out feelers to see if she could find out if Petra was still underground or not.

"I'm sure she's fine," she lied. It was a pretty sure bet that Petra was either being held captive, or was dead. 

Of course he knew her reassurance was a lie, but he didn't call her on it. Instead, he said, "I'm worried that she's changed her mind about returning."

Everly looked over at him again, taking in the haggard cheeks, pale skin, and dark circles under his eyes; He hadn't been sleeping. He hadn't been shaving, either - his facial hair was growing out into a beard that partially covered the short scar on his cheek.

"You think she'd choose to stay with them?"

He was speechlessly reserved for a moment before he nodded. "Yes. Her son is there, and even though I know she hates what he's done, he's still her child and she loves him."

A frown pulled at Everly's lips. "But she loves you, too."

"I'm merely a mach--" He hesitated to finish the word when he saw Everly's jaw stiffen, "well.. a synth. Who would choose a synth over blood kin?"

Everly couldn't answer for Petra, because she was beginning to question it herself. After all, Petra wasn't the same woman that she'd been a year ago. She'd changed. Maybe the changes Everly saw weren't all bad, but they weren't all good, either.

"I wouldn't look at it like that if I were you, Danse. It's got nothing to do with what you are. It's about Petra's guilty conscience. She knows she's not responsible for the way Shaun turned out, but she feels accountable because she's his mother."

"He's a monster," Danse spit, "He doesn't deserve her."

Everly didn't bring up the fact that Danse considered himself a monster, and by his reasoning, he didn't deserve Petra either. She knew he was already thinking it.

"Look, I ca-- No, I _won't_ argue on her behalf, but I will say this... If you want to help ease her guilt in all this, then do what she asked you to and make a life for yourself."

"For what, to live a lie?" his voice hard, his expression bleakly recalcitrant, "I'm a synth. I'm a danger to humanity."

"Danse," she let out breathily, "how long were you with the Brotherhood?"

He eyed her suspiciously but answered, "Over ten years," he paused before adding," if my memories are actually my own."

"Based on what you believed to be true at that time, personal and faction-wise... At any point during those years did you knowingly and purposefully choose to harm non-hostiles?"

He watched her curiously, "Not by choice, no."

"There you have it," she gave a blunt nod, "It's all about choice, Danse. We all wake up every day and have to decide what kind of person we want to be. Don't think that people, whether they're born, created, mutated or what-have-you, are inherently good or evil. We all have darkness in us, Danse. We're all tempted to do terrible, evil things - every one of us a danger to humanity. It all comes down to choice. Being a good person is about choosing to do good in the world, even when it's not easy, or fun, or safe. Use the life that you were given, and make the world a better place, one noble act at a time."

His eyes met hers, glistening in the dull shafts of moonlight that sifted through the cracks in the tin roof of the tower. All was silent as he seemed to ponder her words, his eyes flickering over the few features of her face that he could see.

"I don't know how," his voice so soft that the average person might not have heard him.

He could have kicked her in the gut and thrown her over the tower wall and she would have been less surprised, but she kept her expression calm and offered a gentle smile.

"Yes, you do." Everly looked back out into the night. "You've been doing it this whole time..."

That was it, the last words that were spoken between them for the remainder of their shift. But he didn't leave as she thought he would; He withdrew into the other corner and finished out the watch in silence, casting the occasional peek in her direction. And though she wondered what he was thinking, Everly left him be. Danse wasn't the kind of man to share his thoughts and feelings easily, and she didn't want to push him too far, lest she undo the progress he'd just made.

She considered then, that she might have been wrong about him. Maybe he _could_ learn to trust her after all.

The thought created a warm feeling that spread through her chest, and she smiled to herself.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
Three. Weeks.

Three goddamn insufferable, face-straining, soul-crushing,   hope-destroying weeks inside the Institute, with nothing more to show for her time and effort than a raging migraine that wouldn't dissipate.

Not a single goddamn piece of information on M7-97 could be found, aside from what she already knew: He somehow went missing, or escaped.

But there were no dates to say when it happened, or where it likely took place, or even how. There was nothing to suggest his prior position, or even when he'd been created. There was just nothing. A whole lot of zip, zilch and nada.

And during that time she'd had to run errands for 'Father' like a lap dog, pretending she wanted to be a part of the insanity he called "humanity's best hope for the future". It was no consolation that she was able to speak with her son a little more. Every word that leaked from his mouth made her anger boil.

She had tried, really she had. She'd listened to his pompous speeches and considered his asinine words, his plans for the future of mankind, and she had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. But she couldn't forget the lack of feeling from him when speaking about Nate, or the way he'd emotionlessly told her that he never expected her to make it out of the vault alive. Everything he said made her sick to her stomach.

Part of her wished that he'd just let her die along with the other vault residents.

But she hadn't, and Danse needed her. She had to know if there was a way to ensure his safety. She had to find a way to keep him out of the hands of these lunatics.

There was the Minutemen and the Railroad to think about, too. There was still so much work to do to make the Commonwealth a better place for people to live, and she wasn't getting any of it done sitting around the aggravatingly pristine Institute and listening to their holier-than-thou remarks about people above ground, and demeaning attitudes towards the people they created.

She had to get out.

So she left a note from the Railroad with Z1-14, pulled on her boots and grabbed her pack off the bed. Reaching for her Pip-Boy, she flicked over the map and chose a destination.

There was no point saying goodbye to Shaun. Her child didn't exist anymore, and the old man she'd come to know wouldn't care if she ever came back. Not really. When present, she was just another tool at his disposal, an experiment regardless of where she went. Let him study her from afar then, because she wanted no part of this place any longer.


	13. Kick Off

 

 

       
  
Ever since their conversation during night watch, Danse had begun helping out around the settlement more. He still wasn't saying a lot, but at least he hadn't been hiding in his room.

He had also been eating better, or so Everly had been told by Josiah's mother, Liana. They'd invited him for dinner the past three nights, and - quite surprisingly to everyone - he'd accepted. Everly took that as a good sign that he may just try to fit in here, after all.

Not that he wasn't still worried about Petra, but he definitely seemed to be handling her absence better.

Everly had just finished scraping out all the old ashes from the fireplace in the main gathering room, and was just replacing the cleaned fire grate when Danse walked in with an armload of recently split logs.’

"Where do you want these?" his face partially hidden behind the high pile.

She reached over and took a couple without looking directly at him. "Just put them in that wood box there on the left side," she instructed as she placed her pieces in the grate and stood up. "How'd you know I needed them?"

"Sam mentioned it to me as I was coming back from Liana's," he said.

"I see."

Yeah, she was _beginning_ to see, anyway.

After Danse's public confession, Josiah's mother had begun to seek Danse out. First for a few minor things that she could have gone to anyone for, and then asking for his help on projects that kept him around her cabin for longer periods. Then came the dinner invitations, and now....what? Breakfast? A morning roll in the razorgrain?

Everly knew she had no reason to be upset about what he did or who he chose to do it with, but she recognized her jealousy all the same, and it stunned her.

Of course Liana found Danse attractive; who the fuck wouldn't? Even she had to admit - though very reluctantly and only to herself - that she was attracted to him. But her past relationships had been anything but loving and happy. Her marriage had been as far from bliss as one could get without being sucked into a black hole. She'd made up her mind long ago that being in any kind of intimate relationship based on more than just sex was asking for heartache.

So why the hell did the thought of Danse and Liana becoming a couple feel like a punch to the stomach? She refused to believe that Petra had been right - that she was interested in him on a personal level.

_Surely not._

Danse fit the last log into the crate and turned back toward her.

"You shaved," her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

His fingers raked across his cheek and chin, "A little trim is all. I don't like having a bare face, but the beard was making me itch." 

"Well, it looks nicer this way, to be honest. I'm sure Liana approves."

A puzzled look wrinkled his brow. "Why would she need to approve?"

Oops. Maybe that was being too nosy, and far too obvious. _Shit_.

"Uh, it's none of my business, never mind." She turned back to grab her hat from the seat of a nearby chair. "Listen, I'm going out this afternoon to check a few traps Pete set up yesterday. Louis has been getting lazy recently, and I probably won't be back until late. Can you make sure he cleans up the kitchen after dinner? "

"You're going alone?"

She smiled. "Don't I always?"

"You shouldn't go without backup."

"Aw...," she pulled her hands over her chest and made a little sweet but pouty face, "are you worried about me?"

Everly watched as pink climbed up his neck and into his face.

"No, I just think it's tactically irresponsible to go out there by yourself."

"Well, be that as it may, the only two guys here that know traps and combat both happen to be busy, so... off I go."

Danse followed her out of the room and down the hall toward her quarters.

"Then let me go with you. I don't know traps, but I can watch your back while you work."

Everly turned to face him, a questioning expression tugging her features. "Why?"

"I told you. It's tactic--"

"No no, I get that. I mean, why do you want to go? You don't even like me, so why go out and risk your neck to help me?"

The air was so thin it nearly made it hard to breathe as Danse stood there like a deer caught in headlights, his lips partially open and swallowing nervously.

"I never said I didn't like you."

She arched a brow of unbelief. "Aren't you worried I'll attack you when your back is turned, or something?" she asked snottily.

His gaze lowered briefly and a look of embarrassment crossed his face. "I suppose I deserve that," his stance shifted, "and I think I owe you an apology." Those gorgeous eyes rose to study her. "No one seemed to care that you're...not quite like them, but it could have ended very differently, and I realize now that my behavior was out of line. I still believe they had a right to know, and that you shouldn't have kept it from them, but I shouldn't have been so bullish about it."

Everly was floored, and she knew her entire frame showed it. "Damn, Danse. I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know how I felt."

If she didn't know any better, she might think he was trying to kill her with kindness. If he was, it wouldn't work; others had tried that approach and failed miserably. But no, Danse didn't play games like that. He was one of the most straightforward people Everly had ever met, and she had to admit that even though he could be an ass about it sometimes, she really appreciated that particular trait.

The left corner of her mouth quirked in the tiniest of smirks. "In that case, Thank You for telling me. Shall we head out?"

He didn't smile in return, but she could see the relief on his face at her words and he nodded. "Let me grab my gear."

Just as he turned to go, someone called out for her from the main entrance and Danse followed her back through the house, instead.

"Kevin? What's up?" she inquired.

"Someone at the main gate for you, Miss Everly."

"Did they give a name, or say what they wanted?" Not that it mattered, she was already walking out the door to see for herself.

"No, just said it was important that he speak with you."

The three of them walked back across the yard, and Everly motioned for the guard to open the gate before turning to Kevin to thank him for finding her.

She waited while the main gate was unbolted, Danse standing just off behind her right shoulder a few feet and being as quiet as a mouse. As the gate swung open Everly looked over the visitor.

Less than a couple inches taller than she was, he wore a raggedy pair of jeans and a faded brown flannel shirt. An old backpack pulled at his shoulders and he smiled as he stepped into the settlement, sunshine reflecting off his mirrored glasses. The dark, pompadour-styled hair looked ridiculous and she was certain she hadn't seen him around before. Yet, something about him still seemed very familiar, she just couldn't place it. .

"Howdy," the man said and held out his hand to shake.

"And you are?" Everly eyed him curiously, her free hand ready to reach for her knife at any sudden movement that hinted at danger.

"Me? Oh, I'm nobody. But hey, don't you worry about a thing! I'm just here as a favor to a friend." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small yellowed envelope. "Special delivery."

Something about the man's voice tickled her memory. Just as she took a step closer to accept the package, the wind changed direction at the very same moment that Everly took a breath, blowing his unique odor into her face. As the man's aroma hit her scent receptors, recollection came flooding back to her like an elephant doing a cannonball.

"Deacon...." she growled, "you son of a bitch."

The jig was up and he knew it; taking step back he put up both hands. "Whoa! Hey, easy now. I wasn't trying to trick you or anything, I was just trying to stay off the radar," he glanced around as if someone might be watching, "Spies and all that."

He held out the envelope again and let Everly take it from his outstretched hand. Her name was scrawled across one side and she recognized the writing.

"Petra sent you?"

"That she did. Left this in a drop box with a note for me to get it to you."

She eyed the envelope, then him, then the envelope again. The seal didn't look like it had been tampered with.

"I swear I didn't look inside," he gushed, seeming to read her thoughts.

"Yeah, I'll just believe that," Everly bit sarcastically. 

Behind her, Danse watched them suspiciously, but he held his position as she opened the envelope and tipped the contents into her hand. A holotape and dogtags on a chain slid into her palm with a soft click, the blue glow faint in the morning sunlight. She picked up the tags and glanced at the first. Three lines of barcodes of different lengths and patterns, and a partially scratched away quote graced one side, the other bare. Picking up the second, she turned it over to read the engraving. There was some basic security clearance information that was of little interest to her; It was who the tags belonged to that made her breath catch.

 _DN- 407P_  
Danse, John Mitchell  
Rivet City CW  
ED- 21 Dec 2273

She turned to Danse, trying her damnedest to keep her concern for him off her face. Seeing these might set him back indefinitely, but they were his and he deserved to have them back.

She held them out to him, the small metal tags swaying gently on the chain. He slowly put out his palm and excepted them with a heavy brow and distressed face, as if he already knew whose name was etched into them.

Everly turned back to Deacon. "Anything else before I kick your ass out of our settlement?"

"Ouch. Hold a grudge much?"

"Is that really such a surprise, Mister ' _Ref Eree_ '?" Everly shook her head, not even certain how she'd been stupid enough to fall for that one. She'd been drunk, but not that damn drunk. Maybe she could blame it on hormones?

At least he had the decency to look remorseful. "No, but is it wrong that I was hoping for a repeat of our D.C. performance?"

She wasn't even going to dignify that with a response. Instead, she pointed over to the guard shack and said, "You can grab a bunk in there for the night, if you need to stay. But I swear to God, if I find you sneaking around and nib-shitting - and you damn well I will, Stealth Boy or not - you're out of here."

"Whatever you say, Beautiful."

Everly waited until he had retreated to a nearby chair and went to stand with Danse.

"I want to go listen to this tape before I head out. I'll understand if you want to change your mind about tagging along."

Danse crushed the tags into his fist and shoved them into a pocket of his cargo pants. "No, I'm good. Do you have a terminal for playback?"

"In the house."

There was an old terminal inside one of the large cabinets in the library, and she wrestled it off its shelf and onto the nearest desk. After several minutes of messing with the wires and a small generator - and failing miserably to hook them together successfully - she finally looked up at Danse and gave him a helpless look. "Please?"

He traded her spots and took the cords from her. Within a couple minutes he flipped the switch on the generator and tapped the power button on the terminal, and it buzzed to life.

"My hero," Everly smiled as she plopped into the chair behind the desk and pushed the tape into the reader slot. A couple clicks on the keyboard and the tape whirred into action.

_Hey Ev, it's me, Petra. Obviously, right? It's nine p.m. on November eleventh. Um...listen....things aren't going quite according to plan here. I'm stuck for now. I'm not in danger, but....well, there is a lot going on that I'm trying to learn more about, but I don't have time to go into details. I've run a couple ops for Father, and I was able to scout the Brotherhood. As of yesterday they can't get Liberty Prime operational. Madison Li got pissed and walked out, so they're trying to round up some professor to take over. I'd guess that'll give us another couple weeks at least. As far as the information I came for.... (there was a long pause, and when her voice came back on the tape, it was very melancholy)... there is nothing here. Not a goddam thing. I'm sorry, Danse. I tried, I really did.... But there might be some good news. I got a message from Nick on a case he's been working. Turns out, there might be a synth colony in some place called Far Harbor? I've never heard of it, but he said we should check there. And if the rumor is true, well.... the Railroad might be interested in knowing about it. Ev.... I know I already owe you big time, but.... Please. Please take Danse there and find out what you can. Maybe they can help him. Okay, well, I gotta go. I'm counting on you two taking care of each other. Don't be jerks."_

The tape clicked off and Everly bit her bottom lip in nervous thought and glanced over at Danse, his expression unreadable.

"You all right?"

He nodded. "Far Harbor. I've never heard of it, either."

Everly pulled the holotape from the terminal and shut everything off. She'd put it away later.

"It's a coastal town farther north, about a week and a half walk from here, give or take."

"If it's on the coast, a boat would be much more efficient."

She nodded. "It would. Unfortunately, it's out of the question."

"Why is that?"

"Kinetosis."

"Excuse me?"

Everly sighed. "Motion sickness. Or in this case, seasickness."

Danse's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? You?"

She stood up and walked across the room. "Yes, and don't start, Mister Acrophobia."

"Only when I'm not in my power armor," he grumbled behind her as they went to gather their equipment, and she found herself laughing genuinely for the first time in a very long time.


	14. Green-eyed Monster

 

 

  
Danse had gone out with Everly as they'd planned, even after listening to Petra's message. Hearing the tape had certainly bothered him, nearly as much as having his old holotags returned to him. But that wasn't why he had still accompanied her out to check the traps.

At first, Danse told himself it was because he was trying to show that he could be a part of the community; That he could accept the differences between them and be more that just tolerant of them - he could be helpful and supportive. He could be one of them.

But after the long day he'd spent outside the settlement, having the majority of the day to study Everly and ponder all the things that had recently come to his attention, Danse began to consider that maybe he'd volunteered to go with her for more than just a show of support and acceptance.

She had teased him about it, suggesting that his concern was for her safety, as if he was feeling protective of her at the thought of her being out there alone and vulnerable. Of course he'd denied that, because it sounded far too personal. If he was concerned, it was merely because the people here counted on her, and it would earn their trust if he showed support of their choice to accept her.

Unfortunately, he was now realizing that maybe he'd been too quick to dismiss the charge.

It was understandable that he'd feel the need to watch out for her. After all, she was Petra's friend, and what was important to Petra was important to him - even if he didn't personally care for it. Added to that was the knowledge that the people of Watchers' Wake trusted her. They cared enough about her to show their support, by creating a way to provide the settlement with meat and put less pressure on Everly during her daily hunts.

In other words, they were supporting a vampire by giving her better opportunity to find fresh kills of her own.

Danse wanted to think that he'd gone out there to show that he could be accepting and supportive for that reason as well - that he was merely being generous and trying to show them that he was willing to try to fit in. If not that, then simply that he acknowledged that without Petra to help guide him through this adjustment phase, Everly was the only other option. And he needed her to be safe in order to assure he had someone who understood what he was going through.

But the truth was slowly settling into him as he exited the bathhouse.

After the long day in the field - er, forest - he'd been soaked with sweat and covered in all sorts of woodland debris. Since he wasn't living in a shoddy shack and sleeping on a dirty floor, he saw no reason to continue looking like it, so he'd gone to clean up. It gave him ample opportunity to mull over his thoughts.

Liana had invited him to dinner again, but he'd politely turned her down. Or at least, he'd hoped it had come off as polite. She and Josiah seemed to enjoy his company, even though he didn't have much to say, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings, but something about it was bothering him now.

Well, not dinner with them so much as how Everly had reacted this morning when he had said Liana'a name.   

The first invitation he'd been about to turn down when Everly had butted in and said how nice it sounded, and how she was sure Josiah would get a thrill from it. True, the boy did seem to greatly enjoy his presence, and talked incessantly about his toys, books he'd collected, and how the boys that had picked on him before were leaving him be now.

It had been an enjoyable, if not uncomfortable evening.

Then came the second invitation. Liana claimed she'd overcooked and would appreciate him helping them not waste food. Since the first night had gone well enough, he hadn't seen the harm in it. But the third night, Liana made it very clear that she wanted him to continue joining them for dinner, and even suggested he stop by more often. The thought was unsettling, but not unappealing.

It had just been coincidence that he'd left his jacket at their home last night, and he'd gone to get it this morning when Sam had mentioned Everly was cleaning out the fireplace. She had asked Sam to get logs, but he was busy with another task and asked Danse to step in for him. He didn't mind - he had nothing better to do at that moment.

The tone in her voice when he'd said he was coming back from Liana's.... Well, it was a quality he'd heard in the voices of many of his brothers and sisters when they were upset by something their partner had said or done, so he recognized it almost immediately. 

Jealousy.

Oh, she'd tried to act like the comment didn't bother her, and he almost believed it, except she'd mentioned Liana again when she'd noticed he'd tidied his facial hair.

What he didn't understand, was why. Why was she upset about his dinners with Josiah and his mother? Everly had practically pushed him into in the first place. She hadn't invited him to anything, so it wasn't as if he'd rejected her in place of a better offer.

And then he considered that maybe he was wrong, that he'd jumped to conclusions and maybe she wasn't jealous at all. Maybe she was just concerned for him. Truth be told, he could see that Liana was beginning to lean on him a little too much, as if hoping he could replace her dead husband.

People called him "dense", assumed he was unaware and ignorant. But the truth was, he saw everything - it just wasn't often that he understood what those things meant, or the implications of them. He was... tentative and awkward in dealing with personal interactions and people's feelings, because he'd never been taught how to handle them.

Like now, as he crossed the yard back to the main house, he was certain of what he'd seen in Everly's eyes, and it threw him off balance a little. He'd never seen jealousy as a result of something he'd personally done, and the fact that she was unhappy about him spending time with Josiah's mother had him wondering why.

If Liana was hoping to be more than just simple friends or dinner companions, and Everly was jealous of that....

Did that mean Everly wanted to be more than just acquaintances or companions as well?

The thought made his heart pound faster and his breath hitched.

He could deny that he found Everly to be an attractive female, but of course that would be a lie. Just because he didn't get involved in personal relationships or regularly indulge himself in the company of a female - purely for the purpose of relieving stress and basic needs, of course - didn't mean that his eyes didn't notice them, or his carnal desires didn't surge when someone attractive was within visual range.

Danse shook his head as he stepped into the house. The Institute may not have made him human, but there was no denying they had successfully created a being that mimicked lust and the need to copulate.

As he started down the hall to his room he heard the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen. He'd thought everyone who used the house kitchen and dining hall would have left, now that it was after dark and dinnertime long over. With the hope that maybe there was still food out, he turned in the opposite direction and stepped into the room.

All talking stopped, and Everly and the man she'd called Deacon turned to look at him as he froze in his tracks.

"Uh....I didn't mean to interrupt," he said, more as an apology to Everly than to the man.

"You didn't," Everly smiled nervously. "We were just discussing Petra's suggestion about Far Harbor. Seems like I'm the only one who's been there."

He may be slow on the uptake at times, but he didn't miss the way Deacon's blue eyes traveled over Everly's body while she was talking, or how he'd moved almost imperceptibly closer to her when Danse appeared in the doorway. The men's eyes met and Danse pinned him with a hard stare. He may just be a synth, but he was going to let that poof-haired little weasel know that messing with Everly meant messing with him.

"I'm sure you can tell him all about it after we return."

Deacon smirked at him then, "On the contrary, there, Buddy, I'm going with you."

Danse's jaw clenched. Great. Just what he needed - some eyebrow-less, twig of a man inserting himself into Danse's personal hell. Perfect. What next? The Railroad showing up with all their little puppets in a line to traipse along behind him?

He groaned, "I'm going to bed."

Getting food was forgotten.


	15. Islands In The Sea

 

 

  
  
_Fucking hell._

Everly leaned over the side of the boat and heaved for the third time that morning, the queasiness made worse by the waves smacking the side of the vessel and spraying her face with saltwater. She cursed both men silently from her kneeling position, her head aching and her gut throbbing from all the retching.

They had overruled her demand to skip the watercraft in favor of hiking as close to Far Harbor as they could get. She had hoped that they wouldn't have to use a boat until they were mere minutes from the island, but Danse and Deacon were apparently in such a hurry to find answers to their separate - but unknowingly related - questions that they both considered her seasickness a minor issue to bear.

Assholes. If they only knew how rotten it felt to experience such embarrassing, unpleasant and revolting bodily reactions, maybe they wouldn't have considered her predicament a minor inconvenience.

Forcing her eyes up and out over the horizon, Everly tried to find something else to look at other than the lapping waves that rocked the little ship, but there was nothing. They were too far out to see land, and she had no idea how much longer it would take to reach their destination. The boat seemed to be moving a lot slower than it should be, but maybe that was just because her misery was lasting longer than she thought she could bear.

She wished to hell Petra hadn't asked her to do this, for more reasons than her current position of half-hanging over the port side of the small fishing boat.

Watchers' Wake had good defenses, high walls and capable shooters, but if the Brotherhood found them, or the Institute... She should be there to fight, if that day came. As it was, this journey would take weeks, maybe longer. Who knew when she would make it back to her people?

Everly didn't owe Danse her loyalty. His life was his own responsibility outside the settlement. If he wanted to go traipsing off to some godforsaken island to maybe find information on synths and the Institute, that was his business. Why the hell was she elected to help him? And why had she come? She could have said no. It wasn't like she owed Petra anything, either.

Unfortunately, Everly realized that it wouldn't have mattered. If Petra hadn't asked her to take Danse to Far Harbor - even if he'd learned of it some other way and had planned to go - she would have gone with him.

Why? That's what she was asking herself now. What was it about Danse that made her tolerate emptying her stomach every few minutes after she'd sworn to never step foot on another boat? She wasn't so deprived of male attention or affection that she wasn't thinking clearly where the handsome ex-soldier was concerned. Her attraction to him had nothing to do with her reason for walking away from her responsibilities without hesitation.

Did she feel sorry for him? Not exactly. He wasn't the first person to be dealt a heartbreaking blow and have his entire world flipped on its head, and he wouldn't be the last. She'd had to learn to get back up after being knocked down and kicked around, and if she could do it, so could he.

Did she think that by helping him she could somehow ease her guilt? Never. He was just one man, one life that she could aid but never fix; And after all the lives she'd taken, all the people she'd hurt because of what she'd become, helping Danse wouldn't lessen the damage and suffering from any of the terrible things she'd done. And if she were honest about it, neither would it make his life easier.

She really had no business involving herself in this, past her role at the settlement. Her presence now, here, wouldn't make a difference in what he chose to do or how to do it. What did she think, that he was going to miraculously change his mind and decide that being a synth wasn't the affliction he had believed it was all these years? Because why? Because Everly said so? Because she didn't want to believe that he was a blight on the earth?

Because if she did, then that meant that she was one too - and that would mean all her talk of synths, ghouls, and monsters having a right to try living in peace was nothing more than hot air and pipe dreams.

"You doing okay," Deacon asked from somewhere behind her.

"Just peachy," she grumbled.

"Don't worry," Danse said from inside the open cabin, "we're almost there. Shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes."

 _Oh, goody. Another quarter hour of chopping waves and a rolling boat..._ She almost prayed she wouldn't live that long, but she didn't have the energy. Continuing to stare out at the horizon, Everly counted her breaths; _one...two...three...four in and one...two...three...four...five out, aaand repeat._

She kept this cycle for what seemed like forever, until the boat suddenly wrenched to the side and a THUNK came from near the stern of the vessel. Her stomach lurched and against her better judgement her eyes jerked to the water, scanning the undulant surface.

"What the hell was that?" Deacon pondered audibly as he went to peer over the side.

"Maybe we hit a rock," Danse volunteered as he moved to the gunwale to stand next to her.

Everly pushed herself to her feet, and swaying slightly with her stomach flipping in protest, she reached for her rifle.

"Unless rocks have grown fins and learned to swim," she lifted her arm and pointed out into the water, "I think there's another explanation."

Both men honed in on the area she indicated and all three stood there in momentary shock. Something large was making a wide arc and heading back towards the boat.

"What is that sticking out of the water?" Deacon wanted to know.

"I'm going to guess it's a dorsal fin," Everly told him, "but I've never seen one that tall that looked so thin."

Danse's grip on his weapon tightened. "It looks like a giant needle."

"It's gonna hit us again," Deacon bellowed. "Brace yourselves!"

The beast went under the boat at the rudder, and there was a great crunch of wood splintering and the dull clang of metal as the boat's propeller ground to a halt, and the boat stopped moving forward.

"Fuck!" Deacon yelled, and everyone turned to watch the creature swim away further into the ocean.

Danse went to turn the engine off, since it was of no use now. "Well, we almost made it," he said, pointing out. "There's a lighthouse."

Everly glanced behind her and sighed. Yeah, they'd almost made it. She could see the coastline of the southwest side of the island. From what little she could remember, the island they were nearest to though, was the Great Cranberry, but she'd only seen it once - before the Great War - and had no idea what might be there now.

"Well, we can all sit here in the boat and hope the waves push us inland instead of further out to sea, or we can take our chances and swim for the nearest shore."

Deacon turned to her with what she assumed were rounded eyes, since she couldn't see behind those blasted shades of his. But considering his mouth was hanging open in disbelief at her suggestion, she couldn't imagine his eyes doing anything else.

"You've got to be kidding," he sputtered. "You want us to swim? Out there? With that....that....THING?"

No one seemed concerned about the radiation in the water. At this point, that little fact seemed minuscule in comparison with the beast that had just taken out their transportation.

"Unless you can grow wings and fly us there, do you see another option?"

"Heads up," Danse rumbled, "it's making another pass."

Everly grabbed for the nearby ladder just as the creature lifted higher on the surface, its dorsal fin nearly completely exposed now. It hit the starboard side so hard that the wood buckled and cracked, and water began to invade the main deck.

"Fuck!" Deacon shouted again, "Is now a good time to mention I don't know how to swim?" Everly and Danse glanced over at him with questioning looks and he grinned, "I kid."

"No choice now, even if you didn't," Danse told Deacon. He grabbed their packs from the cabin and tossed them to their respective owners.

"Wait!" Everly said as they stood at the railing ready to jump. "There's no way we can out-swim that thing." She looked out at the creature as it disappeared under the water. "We need a distraction."

"Good idea," Danse nodded. "But what?"

"How good of a swimmer are you?" she asked in all seriousness.

Deacon snorted. "If you think I'm going out there to be bait, you're crazy."

"Fine," Everly dropped her pack to the floorboards and pulled off her boots and socks, stuffing them into her pack. "As long as it gets me the hell off this boat, I'll do it."  She shoved her pack and her rifle into Danse's hands and lifted a foot to the railing.

Danse grabbed her arm as she leaned forward. "No," his voice commanding and he shook his head. "We're here because of me. I should be the one to distract it."

He was serious, but Everly could see how nervous he was about getting into the ocean. He was no Navy boy, after all.

"No, Danse, you've got to find a way to take down the Institute. I got this," and she pulled her knife free of the sheath on her thigh before facing the water again to slip over the side.

Everly cursed under her breath as the icy water instantly soaked through her clothes and chilled her flesh.

"We got fun time incoming," Deacon warned.

Everly held the side of the boat with one hand and held her combat knife tightly in her grasp with the other, placing both feet against the  side of the vessel for a quick push-off, poised and ready to strike. The creature was rising to surface against, heading straight at her.

"Deacon! Don't just stand there," Danse's voice boomed out, "give her some covering fire!"

Within seconds red laser beams flashed past her head, and she could hear the crack of Deacon's .308 as they tried to dissuade the creature from its current target. It seemed to work, for the beast dived, its huge body disappearing in the murky water.

"Go go go!" she heard Danse call out. Everly slipped the dull side of the knife between her teeth before shoving away from the boat as hard as she could. Her kicks were strong and fluid, her arms pistoning up and down as her hands pulled her smoothly through the water as she headed toward land. All thought of seasickness was gone now as she raced through the dark waves, praying she could get close enough to shore to get her feet under her and turn the tables on the beast that had attacked their vessel.

Her heart was hammering blood into her ears from exertion, and she couldn't hear who was yelling at her now, nor the words they were saying, but she imagined it was a warning that the creature was now following her, and she silently cursed. She couldn't hear, couldn't move fast enough, couldn't sense the creature that was surely gaining on her. She didn't have an advantage here, and panic was building in the pit of her stomach.

There was only one option if she wanted to have a chance at living through this, and there was no time for second-guessing. The monster in her was screaming to get out and defend itself, and she decided to let it.

The telltale stinging in her gums went unnoticed, but the moment her teeth protruded the keen senses of her vampiric attributes activated. Even through the frigid water she could feel the essence of the creature not far behind her. It was easily moving four times her speed and she knew that within seconds it would be upon her. She grabbed the handle of her knife at the same time she dove beneath the surface, letting her body twist in a half somersault so that she faced the oncoming attack, her blade held at the ready.

Her vision - now enhanced from the transformation - picked up the giant silhouette of the beast and just before it made contact, Everly kicked herself off to the side so that it rushed through the spot she'd occupied and glided passed her. Flicking out the blade with both hands gripped around the handle, she shoved it into the beast, feeling it rip open a long slice of skin. Her olfactory senses went into overload as blood flooded from the beast in a great gush.

As it twisted into the biting blade to come back at her, its fins spread out to give its escape more power, and a thick film oozed into the water. Everly moved to evade the slime and suddenly felt a screaming pain through her side as its pectoral fin spine pierced her flesh. The creature yanked back in the opposite direction then, in what she assumed was an effort to get away, but she couldn't see any more through the thick mess that clouded the already dirty water.

A bright flash zapped through the ocean, and she felt an electric current pass through the liquid around her, but it was not enough to do her harm, and she felt her secondary incisors retracting without thought.

Bubbles escaped her lungs and lifted topside ahead of her, and she kicked with all the power she had left to give. As her head broke the surface she took in a great gulp of air, her lungs burning, her side throbbing in agony. Pain scorched through her torso as she tried to swim for shore, but her limbs were feeling heavy and her vision started to blur.

She felt sleepy. Sleepier than she'd felt in a very long time - decades even. As her eyelids sagged, she briefly wondered if the beast was dead, right before her whole world turned black.


	16. Unexpected Encounters

 

  
Danse fired his laser rifle at the aquatic monster and watched it disappear under the vessel and out into the ocean. He yelled at Everly to make her move, and watched as she powered through the waves, heading for the closest land.

"Shit," he heard Deacon hiss, "it's definitely taking her as bait."

Danse watched the beast break the surface and make a line straight for her, his entire body screaming at him to do something... Anything!

"Faster, Everly!" he shouted as loud as he could, unsure whether or not she was able to hear him - all while shoving her pack into his own; he always traveled light. "It's gaining on you!"

His heart lurched when he saw her go under, and when she didn't resurface right away, he swung his pack onto his back and slid overboard. He had no idea what he was going to do to help her, but he knew he had to do something.

He'd never been a powerful swimmer. Decent enough to paddle slowly across a small lake, but it wasn't something he enjoyed doing, and he'd never bothered trying to improve. Oh how he now wished to God that he had. As it stood, he was only away from the boat about fifty feet when he saw a bright flash much farther ahead of him and then all was still except the lapping waves that saturated his clothes and gear.

With his and Everly's rifles in hand held up out of the water, Danse pushed on, his only intent to get to where Everly had gone under. He made it another twenty yards when her head popped up out of the water, and the tension in his stomach unclenched ever so slightly. The beast was nowhere to be seen at the moment, but he kept his eyes alert for movement anyway.

Everly bobbed then, as if she was losing buoyancy, and she started to slip back underwater just as he was within arms reach. He threw out his empty hand and his fingers caught the back of her button-down shirt. Hauling her up and into his chest, Danse used every ounce of energy he had to keep them both afloat.

A splashing noise behind him made his head turn, and he saw Deacon - sans sunglasses for the first time since meeting - as the man swam up to them.

"Here," the thin man said, "hand me those rifles so you can help her."

Danse did as he suggested, not even questioning if the man had another reason to leave Danse weaponless. He turned himself onto his back, Everly held tightly in his arm and paddled them to shore, Deacon trailing off the side a way but not far behind. In just a few minutes time Danse was lifting Everly into his arms and carrying her across the rocky shore to a tiny pier.

"Mirelurks!" Deacon bellowed, and he tossed Danse his weapon.

Three of the ugly, smelly things clicked their way out of the muddy shore and approached, but they were swiftly dispatched with laser fire, a few rounds of .308 to the face, and a frag grenade.

Once he was sure the immediate area was secure, Danse turned back to the woman lying on the faded planks at his side.

"Everly," he crouched down to her, seeing now the blood oozing from her side and staining her clothes. She didn't respond to his call.

_Shit._

He didn't waste time trying to be gentle or mannerly. He grabbed the two sides of her shirt and ripped them apart, buttons scattering across the pier. There was a puncture wound in her lower side, just below her ribcage, blood seeping steadily and the skin around it pale. He couldn't even guess how much blood she'd already lost, and he yanked open his pack to retrieve his med kit.

One - two - three stimpaks, and though the bleeding had slowed, it was not stopping.

Deacon was near her feet as Danse worked to cleanse the wound and wrap it, one eye on them and one eye watching for more trouble.

Everly twitched under his hand then, and he looked up at her face, hoping she was waking. That she did, but not in the way he expected.

Her eyes burst open, her mouth opening wide and she let out the most heart-stopping, ear-splitting shriek he'd ever heard. Her hand grabbed hold of his thigh in a desperate attempt to latch on to something for support - though whether that was instinctive, or she was searching for mental support he didn't know.

When the last of her cry faded from her throat her body began to spasm and her eyes went wide as her fingers dug into his flesh. Even through the fabric of his wet pants her nails bit him so hard she had to be drawing blood, but he ignored the minor pain and pressed his hands against her shoulders to keep her down.

"Easy Everly," he ordered as calmly as he could manage. "Take it easy and just breathe. You're going to be okay, just relax and let us help."

Her eyes sent him a pleading look as they started to glisten with unshed tears, and his chest ached at the sight of the terror he saw within their depths. She clutched at his forearm with her other hand and pulled at him, as if having him closer would somehow make the pain disappear.

The spasms faded, but her breathing was quite labored and he wondered if the creature had poisoned her with a toxin. It would explain her reactions.

Danse didn't really approve of chems, other than stimpaks; He thought those who used drugs were weak of mind and body, and it was a deplorable habit to get into. But now, as he knelt there next to her watching Everly writhe in pain and struggling to breathe, chems were the only answer he had.

He grabbed Med-X from his kit and released it into her neck, praying it would give her some relief. Normally it only took a minute before the drug began to take effect, but this time it didn't seem to be helping, and he glanced down at her wound. Blood had soaked through the hasty bandage and was slowly dripping across the wood floor beneath her, and he looked back up at her.

"Everly. You're really hurt, and the stimpaks aren't working. I don't know what else to do," he admitted quietly, embarrassed by his inability to stop her suffering.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were silent and gasping. He couldn't even lip read.

"What did she say?" Deacon interrupted and Danse shook his head.

"Say it louder, Ev," Danse urged her. "Tell me what to do."

A puff of vocalized air came out forcefully, "Blood," she pulled on his arm again. "Must...get me...freshhh...."

He shook his head. "I can't leave you now to go hunt," he uttered, "It will take too long...you won't make it."

Her green eyes pleaded with him again just to do what she asked, but he knew if he left her, he'd never find a fresh kill in time to save her. He knew he only had one choice, and he doubted she was going to like it.

"My blood," he focused on her gaze. "Will it work, even though I'm....? You know."

Her eyes squeezed shut at that and she shook her head weakly side to side. "I won't... Can't...be that....again," she wheezed. "Get...fresh."

She was just being stubborn now, and though he understood her reason for not wanting to use his blood, he also knew that if she didn't, she was going to die.

"Goddamit, Everly!" He yanked up the sleeve of his Henley and reached for his knife. He winced as he pulled the razor-sharp blade across his skin, watching as blood began to leak from the clean cut, and he held it close to her face.

"Hold up! What the hell are you doing?" Deacon screeched.

"Shut up," Danse bit out at the man, and pushed his bleeding wrist to Everly's lips. "Do it," he told her.

She refused with more head shaking, but he saw her pupils begin to dilate and her nostrils flared as she smelled the life force that seeped from his skin.

"Do it!" he growled.

The sound that came from his throat was half pleading, half commanding as he pressed the bloodied appendage onto her lips. He knew she wouldn't be able to stop what was going to happen, and he watched in partial horror as her teeth pressed into the flesh around his cut and he could feel the pressure of her tongue and the pull of her mouth as she drank.

Danse watched in silence, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded; but at the same time a sense of gratification washed over him that had nothing to do with Everly acting on his order. It was primal, and heady, as if he were drunk or drugged, and in the back of his mind he knew it was because of what she was doing to him.

After what was no more than a minute he felt her shove his hand back and she turned her head away, but not before he saw the tears rolling from the corners of her eyes.

He pulled back, watching her in silence. Her chest was rising and falling somewhat normally now, her skin taking on a more normal color. Blood no longer seeped from her wound.

Danse rose and pulled his pack to a nearby crate, where he sat to cleanse his wound and bind it with a clean bandage before pulling the sleeve of his shirt back over it, all while ignoring Deacon's stares of silent questioning. The man had moved back toward the small shed and leaned against the corner, rifle in hand and sunglasses back in place.

After over a quarter hour passed, Everly sat up and eased to her feet to get her pack. Danse waited patiently while she pulled out her wet socks and boots, and then looked over at him.

"We should probably stay here tonight, don't you think?"

He nodded. "I'll find wood for a fire."

"No no," Deacon said, pushing off. "You two stay put. I'll go."

They watched the man walk off, disappearing into the brush before she turned back to him.

"I'm sorry, Danse," she whispered. "I shouldn't have..."

He studied her for a moment before replying. "It wasn't your fault. I started this and you got hurt. It was my choice to....do that."

Everly's eyes dropped to the wet socks in her hands and she sighed. "I swore I'd never do that again. I broke my promise."

"Because I made you," he retorted.

"So!" her eyes burned when she looked over at him again, "Does that mean if the Institute makes you hurt someone, it's okay?"

Danse's jaw tightened. "No, but that's a completely different scenario, Everly. I offer--nay, ordered you to break your vow, of my own accord. I'm not a victim!"

Neither of them seemed to notice that he'd inadvertently admitted synths had free will, until his words replayed in his head and eyes widened as he grasped what he'd just said. His face relaxed and he felt the corner of his mouth tip as he gave her a tiny grin.

"I'm not a victim," he repeated. "I have a choice. I have free will."

He said it more to himself than to her, but even she couldn't help but offer a small smile in return at his drastic change in personal belief, and though her eyes were sad, he knew that she was pleased that he finally understood what she and Petra had been telling him all along.

 

* * *

 

Deacon walked around the back side of the small red shack, his thoughts sifting through all the images he'd just witnessed. His mind was screaming at him that being anywhere near his two travel companions was too much of a risk. Not only because of his affiliation and the threat they posed to his work, but also because of what he'd seen take place and overheard not more than five minutes beforehand.

Danse had laid Everly's unconscious form on the tiny dock and it was clear to both men from the blood steadily pouring from her side that she was very injured. Deacon may not like the Brotherhood of Steel, and thereby didn't trust Danse as far as he could throw him - regardless of the man's recent banishment; which Deacon still hadn't discovered the reason for - but he would admit that Danse was capable of decent first aid treatment. Yet it had done no good. The blood wouldn't coagulate, and therefore the wound wasn't beginning to heal.

He didn't know Danse at all, but he'd paid enough attention to the man to know that Danse didn't scare easily. But when the first aid didn't work, Danse had looked downright frightened.

No, Deacon hadn't missed Everly's response to that. Blood. Fresh blood, to be exact.

At first, he assumed that she was referring to a blood pack to replace what she'd lost, but.... Well, Danse seemed to know that's not what she was speaking of.

How had he known that? From what Deacon could tell, they'd known one another less than two months, according to the comments he'd overheard at Watchers' Wake - okay, eavesdropped on would be more accurate. Petra had taken Danse there to keep him from being located by the Brotherhood. What had the man done to get on their bad side? Deacon obviously needed to make an undercover recon trip to the airport when he returned to Boston. He was apparently missing out on a lot of goings on.

Anyway...he was getting off track. The blood. A hunt. A fresh kill that Danse hadn't wanted to leave her side to go after, afraid she wouldn't be alive when he returned. And then the big shocker.

 _'Will mine work?'_ Danse had asked her as if he was going to start up an IV transfer right there on the pier. And she'd refused, saying she wouldn't do that to him.

Wouldn't do what? Accept a blood transfer? Why the hell not? Did she hate the Brotherhood of Steel that much that she wouldn't accept aid from an outcast, or..... Oooooooh.

Deacon was glad he'd taken up the custom of wearing shades, because he'd never been very good at keeping surprising revelations from showing through his baby blues. He looked at Danse hard, studying, going back over the things he'd learned about him and how the man acted. It explained so much.

_Dude's a synth!_

Unfortunately for Deacon - that's the name he'd been going by for quite a few years now - that wasn't the only shock of the night. Imagine his surprise when Danse sliced his combat knife across his inner forearm and forced Everly to accept the blood that was dripping onto her chest.

Yeah, it freaked him out a little, he wouldn't lie. He'd heard himself yelling at Danse, asking what he was doing. Danse responded with nothing more than a biting reply that conveyed no doubt about what he was doing, nor any fear of what might happen.

Crouching there at Everly's feet and watching Danse basically plead with her to drink... Deacon could honestly say - which was in and of itself something shocking, he knew - that he had never seen anyone drink someone else's blood. Oh, he'd heard of cannibals sometimes eating hearts that still pumped, but...even cannibals didn't recover from fatal wounds by simply drinking blood, fresh or not.

And then he watched her eyes take on a glassy look, as if they were replicating on the characteristics of mirrored glasses. Yes, it was strange. But that wasn't the part that nearly made his head explode. It was as Everly opened her mouth to clamp down on Danse's arm that Deacon saw them. Two long, sharper canines protruding further over her normal teeth...right before she closed her eyes and began to suck down the red mess.

Well, that was....different.

He'd backed away then, retreating to the corner of the shed to lean there in nonchalance, as if nothing he'd just witnessed was out of the ordinary. But, oh it really was. It was so far from normal that Deacon wasn't even sure how to categorize it.

 _Odd?_ No, that was too trivial.

 _Interesting, but creepy?_ Better, but still not quite nail-on-the-head accurate.

 _Deep-end psycho with a side dash of what-the-fuck-just-happened?_ Yeah. Yeah, that was it.

What disturbed him the most was the unanswered question that was looping in his brain. Had Everly been....well....whatever the hell she was, when they'd slept together in Diamond City? Because if she was...he had a new item to add to the list of questions he checked off concerning all potential future sexual encounters. He didn't have many inhibitions, but this one was now going at the top.


	17. To Forget

 

  
While Deacon was out looking for kindling, Everly had tried picking the lock on the old shed - in hopes of finding some blankets or dry clothes for them to wear while their own belongings dried out. It wouldn't budge. Eventually Danse had tired of watching her struggle with the stubborn thing and walked over, telling her to move out of the way.

"I normally wouldn't break in to someone's property, but from the looks of this place, it hasn't been used in a very long time," he explained with a frown as she watched him from off to the side. "Plus," he said while lifting a booted foot, "our current circumstance could be considered an emergency." He gave a swift kick to the wood just below the handle and the wood splintered enough to push the peeling wooden portal away from the frame.

"We can leave a note with someone in Far Harbor with some caps for the owner, if it would make you feel better," she suggested.

"That would be the honorable thing to do," he agreed, his expression a little less disapproving.

They pulled their packs inside the door and proceeded to check the contents of the building. More crates, barrels and nets, some shelves with supplies stacked neatly in groups - covered in layers of dust, and a red trunk containing a few articles of useless junk was all they found.

"Should we check the crates?" she wondered.

Danse nodded and grabbed an 'S' hook off the fishing rack in the corner to pry the lids off the crates. The first three were nothing but fertilizer, but the last one was filled with tanned hides. Using some of the old rope from the netting, they took turns using the shed as a changing room to wrap themselves in the hides.

Of course, Everly thought she looked ridiculous in the dirty old hide, but when Danse emerged from the shed with his temporary covering low on his hips, a frayed rope holding it up and together, she nearly choked on the bite of mirelurk she'd fried up using the fire Deacon had started.

She tried so hard not to stare, but it was nearly impossible not to gaze upon such captivating magnificence. It didn't matter that she failed, though, as Danse was avoiding looking at her - so he could only guess if she was watching him or not. And watch she was.

Everly's eyes lingered on his deep barrel chest before following the tapering torso down and over the makeshift clothes to muscular thighs peppered with the same black hair that sprinkled over his chest and arms.

_Good Lord, those Institute bastards may be a colony full of lunatics, but they sure created perfection when they made that man._

"Guess it's my turn to go dress up like a caveman," Deacon jested as he pulled off his boots and disappeared into the shack, utterly ignored by the others.

Everly watched the muscles play across Danse's back and shoulders as he carefully arranged his wet clothes over the line Deacon had strung near the fire, skimming down over his backside and stopping at the thick calves that peeked over the tops of his boots, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She dropped her eyes to her plate when he turned around, but she wasn't thinking about food, her mind filled with mental pictures of Danse's nearly naked body.

She shook her head to scatter them away like leaves in the wind, but it wasn't working. She needed to stop; stop looking at him with lust; stop inserting herself into his problems  as if he needed her - as if he wanted her by his side; stop caring about whether or not he would desire to live now that he'd accepted what he was.

Everly glanced over at him as he took a seat on the same crate he'd used earlier, continuing to avoid looking her way.

It was for the best. Coming to Far Harbor with him was a mistake. Letting herself dwell on her attraction to him was a mistake. Thinking that she might mean more to him than just a helpful acquaintance was a mistake. Danse may finally understand that his life wasn't worthless and that he had a right to be who and what he wanted, but that didn't mean that he would ever consider her anything but an abomination.

And even if Danse did ever think of her as more than that, what did she think would happen? That he would see past what she had become and care for who she was? That he'd fall madly in love with her? That they could have a loving relationship filled with mutual trust, respect and faithfulness?

That wasn't likely to happen. Not for her.

Her marriage hadn't lasted long, but it had often felt like some of the longest times of her life. Charles had either left her alone for days and weeks at a time, or paraded her around to impress wealthy men and persuade them to invest in his latest schemes. He treated her like a possession - a bauble of mediocre worth. He'd bedded countless women, and rubbed her face in it, knowing she could do nothing about it.

When he'd died he'd left her with massive debt, a shameful last name and little else. She'd tried a few other relationships since then but none had worked out. Genuine love seemed to be something that always escaped Everly's grasp.

Or maybe she just didn't deserve it. 

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
Petra sat at the Third Rail bar working on her sixth whiskey as Magnolia crooned some lonely song about heartbreak and misery. She wasn't paying attention to the words, but the tune was definitely adding to the somber atmosphere in the room, and shading her already bad mood with gloom.

She considered finding someone to talk to, but she wasn't in the mood to share her feelings at this point. In all honesty, all she wanted to do was drink until she blacked out and forgot her life over the past two years, even if only for a few hours.

Someone brushed the back of her arm as they took the stool next to her, but she didn't care to look over and see who it was. She let her fingers play around the rim of the glass in front of her for a couple minutes before picking it up and downing it in one gulp.

"Need a refill here, Charlie," she mumbled and pushed the glass toward the back side of the counter.

"Then I need caps," the snobby robot replied.

Petra snorted, but reached to get some from her pocket when a handful where slid across the bar in front of her.

"On me," a masculine voice said.

Charlie swiped the caps, filled her glass and moved away before Petra could refuse, so she pulled the drink closer, barely glancing at the man who'd paid for it.

 _No point wasting a perfectly good drink._ "Thanks," she offered before knocking it back swiftly.

"Lots on your mind?" he asked, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Wasn't that the truth of it? Her mind was constantly flooded with losses and failures, missions that she needed to complete and things that had to be looked into. Her life before the Great War hadn't been idle, but this...? This life was an endless list of shit to complete that seemed to help everyone but her. She was constantly busy, running from place to place and doing job after job with little to show for it. Not that she didn't like helping people, but fuck... It was as if no one in the Commonwealth could lift a finger to help themselves.

It was exhausting.

"Trying not to think," she answered the man.  
  
"Want to talk about it?"

What part of 'trying not to think' did he not understand? Wouldn't talking about it require thinking about it? She shook her head, then wished she hadn't as everything began to spin.

"Whoa there," the man took hold of her bicep and kept her upright on her seat as she temporarily leaned out of balance. "Easy movements."

Petra held herself as still as she could until the spinning stopped, and then she looked over at him. His brown hair was slicked back and shaved along the sides, his square jaw and rugged chin bare. He looked so young, but his eyes had that look that said he'd already seen far too much of the fucked up shit this world had to offer. There was something extremely familiar about him, and at first she thought it might be the scar that puckered a line down his right cheek, but....

Hell, everybody had a scar in the wasteland. She'd earned three since stepping out of the vault!

Maybe it was his rather hawkish nose, or those piercing blue eyes? Hmmm, yeah, now that she thought about it, she did seem to recognize those heavy brows, but for the life of her she just couldn't envision them on a face that corresponded to a name.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Mmmm...just call me Bulldog."

His tone was tight, and even though Petra knew she was drunk, she could still see the anxiety in his posture and the way his eyes kept flicking out over the people around the room.

"Bulldog. Wasn't there a famous fighter with that moniker?" she reflected.

"I wouldn't know."

Petra nodded. Right. No, of course he wouldn't. He hadn't woken up 200 years after the nuclear war to find that everything he'd known was gone and all the people he'd loved were long dead or stolen away.

"I better...go," she hiccuped as she slid ungracefully from her seat, "sleep...this off."

The man slipped off his stool to take hold of her arm and drag her upright when she tripped over her own foot while trying to turn around. Yeah, she was very drunk. Never had been able to hold her liquor.

"May I escort you to your room, Miss?" he offered.

Petra glanced up at him as she tried to position herself to face the stairs that led to the way out. "That won't be nests... nesser... um... think I can... do it."

She pulled away from him then and tottered as his hand left her waist. She wobbled to the stairs and grabbed the railing, pulling herself slowly up, but teetered on one step and nearly fell backward. Strong hands caught her around the waist and kept her from toppling to the floor below.

"I think I'd better just help you anyhow," Bulldog told her, and she agreed with a nod.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
Petra woke up with a start, lurching upright before she realized where she was or remembered what she'd done the previous night. Of course, the throbbing ache in her head reminded her and sent her scrambling for the bathroom. A half hour later she was feeling better; a shower, fresh set of clothes and a good five minutes of proper oral hygiene could do wonders to make a body feel almost normal.

_Almost._

Her head was still throbbing, but she managed to make it out of the room and down the stairs without falling. As she passed by the main lobby desk the woman behind it rasped out her name and Petra approached.

"That young man that brought you in last night left this message for you. I don't make a habit of being a courier, so don't expect me to repeat this service."

Petra accepted the folded paper from the woman's wrinkled hand and nodded. "Thanks."

She'd forgotten about the stranger from the bar, but now that Clair mentioned him, Petra wondered who he was, and more importantly, what he wanted. People in the Commonwealth didn't just go around helping inebriated souls - unless they were planning on robbing them blind, or killing them.

Or both.

With a name like Bulldog, Petra wondered if maybe he'd been a Raider or a Gunner, but...

Well, he'd been too nervous to be a Gunner. Goodneighbor was kind of their territory - though changing that fact was already in the works - so unless he was an ex-Gunner like Mac, he'd have no reason for the anxiousness. He'd been too clean and proper to be a Raider. His clothing and hair had lacked the dirt and grime a typical wastelander accumulated in day to day life, so he was no settler, either.

No, this young man was from somewhere else, somewhere clean and safe.

 _Somewhere like the Institute_ , a little voice whispered. 

Petra shoved the letter into the front pocket inside the lining of her padded vest and left the hotel. She had more pressing matters to look in to, and it likely wasn't all that important anyway. She could read it later, after she took care of whatever issue the settlers of Croup Manor had radioed in for.

Focused on her new mission, Petra passed by the shops without a glance, unaware of the set of eyes watching her as she exited through the weather-beaten blue door.


	18. Things Unspoken

 

 

  
Danse recognized his dilemma for what it was, but he was afraid to consider it. He was attracted to Everly - had been for many weeks now, much to his chagrin - and seeing her bare skin and long legs made him ache in places he hadn't paid attention to in a very long time.

Not since before Cutler had died.

After that, he'd put all his focus into the Brotherhood, not willing to let another person into his life that deeply. He couldn't handle losing another person that mattered to him, and without his friend to drag him along to bars and clubs, Danse had no reason to spend time around women, or find one to share his nights off duty. His attention had been put anywhere but female companionship - including those in his fantasies.

But lately, without the missions and tasks given to him by the Brotherhood to occupy his mind and his time, Danse had begun to remember those times Cutler had dared him to approach someone, urged him to stop being so shy and make a move on a pretty girl. Granted, the times he'd actually acted on his interest were few, but if it hadn't been for Cutler's confidence in him, Danse never would have taken the chance on even one woman.

He was lonely. He recognized it not long after Petra had compelled him to escape, and now, sitting on the little dock with a half naked woman less than five meters away, he considered why he suddenly felt empty and alone. His loneliness wasn't only because he missed his job or the satisfaction of putting in a good days' work. It wasn't only because he had no one to share his thoughts and worries with, or talk to about women and power armor. He missed his friend terribly, but he also missed the attention and affection a woman could give him.

But as he sat there contemplating this, he realized that he'd been thinking about this for a while now, and he didn't want just any woman. His thoughts had begun to filter in that direction since he'd arrived at Watchers' Wake and met Everly. She'd stirred something in him and he'd been simultaneously fighting it and pondering on it  - _on her_ \- far too often.  

His body wanted her, but... did he? Knowing what she was worried him, as much as knowing what he was had shamed him. Here he was, a former Brotherhood soldier, taught to abhor the abominations of the wasteland and exterminate the filth that plagued the world, and he was lusting after a vampire. It was disgusting. Frightening. Humiliating. And yet... he couldn't stop.

The brief image of her bending over the small fire while cooking by the dock, drove his brain into an endless cycle of lust-filled thoughts, the bottom edge of the dusty hide pulled around her mere inches from revealing things he had no business seeing. He'd kept his eyes averted from her after that, but it hadn't stopped his late night dreams from continuing down the path his musings had been taking before.

He knew from previous interactions that her pale skin was soft and smooth, her shiny hair so sleek it tickled when it slid across his flesh. He knew that Everly smelled like leather, gunpowder and gently-scented flowers. And he also knew that from far away her eyes looked green, but up close, when she was gazing back at him, there were flecks of yellow, brown and sage all rimmed in dark sea-green. His mind took this knowledge and built a slumbering utopia that had him waking up covered in sweat, shaking with desperate need and clenching his jaw against the effects of the fading dream.

He'd sat there in the early morning hour just before dawn, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to focus on anything but the dream - on anything but the reactions it had produced in his body - hoping he had better control during his waking hours and praying he didn't talk in his sleep. He laid there until after sunup, trying to recall the manual on laser weapon upgrades word for word, just so he wouldn't dwell on that dream.

They crossed over to the main island just after nine that morning, sneaking at one point to avoid super mutants that had taken over the old hotel there, and then trying to quietly eliminate several packs of ferals along the main road north.

None of them seemed in a talkative mood today, and it was making Danse a little edgy. What he normally found to be peaceful silence was beginning to nag at his mind, for neither of his companions were speaking to each other. Everly threw the occasional glance at Deacon, but had shunned direct eye contact with Danse all morning. Deacon, on the other hand, cast the occasional glimpse in his direction, but had so far been ignoring Everly.

Danse knew this only because he was currently bringing up the rear while Everly was on point. This meant that he could watch them both, and was fully aware when the Deacon would turn his head every so often as if he heard something behind them.

Those dark shades weren't fooling him.

He considered it understandable that Deacon wouldn't want to talk about what he'd seen the previous day, and on the flip side of the coin it made sense that Everly would try to avoid Deacon and any questions or judgement he might have. But what Danse couldn't figure out was why the man kept watching him, or why Everly seemed to want to distance herself from him and only spoke with curt comments, or not at all.

They had already talked about what he'd done, and he had believed that she was okay with the choice he'd made. Of course he was aware that she was upset about it, but that was on him, not her. Was she angrier with him than she'd let on? Or maybe she was upset that he'd withdrawn last night; not because she'd done anything wrong, but because being near her was too distracting, though he couldn't tell her that.

It disturbed him that he'd been the catalyst to her injury. If not for his desire to learn his enemy's secrets, she wouldn't have needed to leave her home, wouldn't have had to suffer through those bouts of seasickness, nor fight a sea-beast easily three times her size. Danse regretted that he'd caused her to go back on her word, but he also knew that if he hadn't, she wouldn't be there now, and he determined that Everly being angry with him was far less important than her being alive.

The thought shocked him and nearly made him stumble as his gate hitched for the briefest of seconds at the realization that an abominations' life was more important than removing it from the world.

Just a mere month ago, he would not have been inclined to believe such a thing, and he wasn't sure exactly when that had changed. But it had changed. He had changed, and he wondered what else about himself and his beliefs would be challenged before this was all over.

As they made their way along the broken road, Danse continually fought back those early morning dream images as they threatened to turn into daytime fabrications; Everly with her long hair flowing around her shoulders as he lowered her beneath him; his hand gliding up the perfect skin of her inner thigh; Everly sighing softly as his mouth pressed kisses over her flesh, calling out his name as he tipped her over the edge to gratification.

He gave his head a shake and released a ragged breath. It was becoming more difficult with each passing day to push those kind of  thoughts away, and he wondered how much longer he could keep this up before he did something he was quite certain they would both regret.

The trio arrived at the Wind Farm not long into the early afternoon, and came across a trapper who told them of the synths in Acadia, just up the hill.

The gate was open and there were no guards around the facility - only a couple people outside with garden tools, who watched them with curiosity, but didn't approach. No one tried to stop them when they ascended the stairs to the blue door, and no one spoke to them once they'd passed through it. Not immediately, anyway.

Inside the dome structure, they eased down a wide, dimly-lit hallway. Some computers could be seen at the far end, random flickering blue and white lights a tempting distraction from the doorways along the way, but their weapons were ready to fire at the first hint of trouble.

As they reached the end of the hallway, an android unlike anything any of them had ever seen - as evident by the stunned expressions on their faces - began speaking even before it rose from the chair it occupied, tubes and wires sticking from all over its form. Its 'voice' was almost zen-like, and what should have been a calming effect only served to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and send goosebumps across his skin.

"You know, when I first climbed this mountain, above the fog, I thought to myself: now here is a metaphor worth taking in." The thing walked toward them, looking at Everly. "You've entered a place of clarity. Understanding. Peace. While you're here in Acadia, synth-kind welcomes you, as long as you welcome us."

"As long as it stays that way, we won't cause trouble," Everly told him.

It smiled strangely, a creepy grin that seemed more sad than happy. "Tell me why you're here and I'll try to help you."

"Well, I can't answer for all of us, but he's here," she indicated Danse with a flip of her index finger, "to find out what you know about the Institute and its creations."

Danse was relieved that she hadn't immediately aired his dirty little secret, but it didn't help him relax even a fraction of an iota.

"I see. Before I tell you...," its yellow eyes floated from one face to another before returning to Everly, "One question, if you'll indulge me. You're here for information, but I suspect there could be another reason you came to us. Are you a synth?"

He saw a brow hike and she gave it a look that portrayed her annoyance at the question. "Me? Not a chance."

"I know it might seem impossible that you could be a synth," the thing - the synth - droned on, "but tell me, what's the first thing you can remember?"

Danse saw the twitch in Everly's jaw as she reigned in her growing impatience. "What's that got to do with what you know about synths?

"Please, just answer the question," the unruffled tone mild but not pleading.

"If you were a dog, you'd be barking up the wrong tree, pal."

"Maybe, but how do you know? We so easily accept what's presented to us as the truth, don't we? Isn't it funny how a memory can feel like a whole different reality? People, places, even sounds and colors can change. Or someone else has changed them."

The eloquent way it described Danse's recent experience froze him to the spot, and he missed the way Everly suddenly changed stances uneasily, her eyes fleetingly moving in his direction before she jerked them away.

"Trust me when I tell you I'm not a synth," she hissed, "and don't try playing head games with me. I'm not in the mood for that bullshit."

"Whatever you believe, we will accept you for who you are. Synth or human." It looked over all three of them again, its robotic eyes halting briefly on Danse before moving to watch Deacon. "All of you are welcome here. Walk around, speak with my people. You are safe here."

Deacon moved up closer then, "Uh....thanks. Listen, I'd like to know more about this place. Why did you come here? How did it get started? What's your goal?....." His voice trailed off as he followed the synth around the center platform, and Everly turned to Danse for the first time since waking up that morning.

"Well, I guess you found the right place," the smile she tried to offer was tight and forced, and he could see that she was shaking.

"Are you...okay?" he truly wanted to know.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said the words, but her body language contradicted it.. "Um, hey... not that I'm in a hurry for another boat ride, but I'd better head to Far Harbor and get back to the settlement."

That hadn't been what he'd expected to hear, and he was surprised to find that her statement hurt a little. Was she truly in such a hurry to be rid of him? What was he supposed to say to that? Please don't leave him feeling empty and alone?

He understood her desire to leave. She wasn't here for him - only having come because Petra had begged her to. He didn't expect her to have feelings for a synth, so obviously he couldn't ask her not to walk away. There were people who depended on her for their safety, and they were important to her. Why would she choose to stay with him over them? He meant nothing to her, and certainly not more than the settlers of her little town.

Besides, he wasn't sure if what he felt for her was even real or just a glitch in his programming. Or if it was real, was it just physical attraction or was there something more? Did his desire for her mean anything?

Or maybe his feelings for her were merely trivial emotions based on nothing more than his anxiety of facing this alone. Maybe he was just nervous about learning more truth about himself and not having someone to remind him there was more at stake than his own welfare. Either way, the thought of not having her there disappointed him.

His throat felt thick as he nodded and he tried to sound unaffected. "Of course. You have...responsibilities."

He'd been about to say that she had more important things to do than stay at his side while he traversed this living hell and faced his worst fear, but hey, he couldn't very well put that kind of guilt on her after all she'd already done for him, regardless of who she'd done it for.

Everly bit her top lip as she searched his face. What she was looking for, he couldn't imagine, but just as she opened her mouth to speak again there was a loud rumble so powerful that it shook the dome. A thunderous crack drove across the sky above their heads and caused lights to flicker, and everyone looked up at the ceiling.

Danse looked back over at Everly, watching her study their surroundings and wishing that he could say the words that his mind wanted to articulate, but knowing that it was probably for the best that he say nothing. He'd likely just mess it up, anyway.

What good would it do to ask her to stay? She'd nearly died because of him, and her renouncement of feeding on people broken because of a choice he'd made. Did he think she would forgive him for that? Did he think she would want to stay at his side? After all, just because Everly believed synths were people and protected them the same as all others, didn't mean she'd want to be personally involved with one. How could she want to be touched by a genetically engineered imitation?

The entrance door slammed closed and Danse whipped around to see a lean man approaching quickly, who eyed the visitors, but walked past them to speak with the synth.

"DiMA, there's a bad storm blowing in," a man said in a worried voice. "Looks like we might be stuck inside awhile."

"Excuse me while I speak with my associates," the android told Deacon and turned away as a man in a lab coat came to unhook him from all the wires. "Please feel free to stay. Find a bed and rest, food if you're hungry," he told them all before laying back in the chair while a man called Faraday worked at his side.

Everly looked back at Danse. "Guess my departure will have to wait, then," and she gave a little smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I think I'll do a little reconnoitering," he replied, avoiding the subject further, and he stepped around her to investigate the rooms and lower levels of the structure and its inhabitants.  



	19. Am I Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realized this chapter got saved as a draft when I re-posted this story. It will be the last one for a while.

 

Hours. Danse had spent hours going through the levels one by one, watching the people, listening to them talk, checking out the rooms and committing the layout and contents of the building to memory. It was boring, and not at all what he would rather have been doing, but...well, he was trying to give Everly the space she seemed to want from him. That, and he couldn't bear seeing her, knowing she wanted to leave. The knowledge twisted like a knife in his gut.

The storm outside raged on, thunder clapping occasionally and rumbling all around. It was louder the higher he went, and when he emerged on the ground level once more, he saw the old synth sitting in his chair. No one else seemed to be around, so he walked along the perimeter of the circle of computers, keeping the android within sight.

"Would you like to talk about the reason you've come here?" it inquired without looking over at him.

He stopped and watched it a moment before moving closer.

"I suppose now is as good of a time as any other."

DiMA waited for him to approach before speaking again. "You wanted to know about the Institute. Tell me...what do you hope to accomplish with this information?"

Well, that was easy enough to answer. "I hope to end the terror and suffering they cause."

"And how do you mean to do this? Are you going to destroy them?"

Yes! He wanted to yell, but hesitated to say it aloud. "I'll do whatever I have to."

"Even if that means killing your own kind?"

Danse froze. Did it know what he was? It could have been referring to the human scientists, but... No. The way it was watching him as if it were reading his thoughts... No, it knew. Somehow the synth knew what he was, and the knowledge burned through him at having to admit it yet again.

"Yes."

DiMA studied him in silence for what seemed like forever. "You have more on your mind than just eliminating the Institute," it moved forward ever so slightly in its seat, "personal things; questions about what you are capable of and if your origins define you."

The goosebumps from earlier returned and prickled his skin at the synth's stunningly accurate words, and he nodded.

"I believe most of my memories are my own, but... I wonder if everything I've done has been my own choosing, or if my programming decides what decisions I make."

Danse felt stiff and uncomfortable telling his worries to the damaged and worn robot, but it was the only way he was going to get answers, so he forced himself to voice his fears and wait.

"How long did you live without knowing you were a synth?"

"Years. A decade or more, I believe."

Those yellow orbits flicked over his features as it considered his words. "Each synth created possesses a basic personality, just like every human born into the world. The programming you speak of doesn't make you who you are, it merely introduces guidelines and provides information that the Institute wants you to follow. It doesn't make your decisions for you, nor cause you to take one action over another. If it did, none of my people would be escaping. They wouldn't want to."

Danse scowled at that. "Unless it's caused by malfunctions."

The synth shook his head.

"Most people who see mass malfunctions in their programming would stop using that software until they fixed the problems, yet the Institute continues to create synths that desire to be free from the oppression of their creators. Wanting to live your own life and find happiness is not a glitch in programming. It's a natural instinct of all living beings."

The explanations made sense, but he was reluctant to believe them. If the synth was telling the truth, then that meant all generation three synths were not only free-thinking beings, but that they couldn't fully be controlled by the Institute. If that were true, then dozens upon dozens of synths had been killed by the Brotherhood of Steel based on a misconception - and many of them by his own hand.

Danse's stomach knotted.

It could be argued that the synths were potentially dangerous and could harm people if left alive - but as Petra and Everly frequently liked to remind him, humans had the potential to harm one another at the mere thought of gaining something they desired, or simply because the mood struck them to hurt someone. If all synths wanted to do was be free - the ones with humanlike brains - and to make their own choices and live their lives out from under the control of another... How did that make them any more dangerous than the raiders or gunners?

The Brotherhood alleged that synths mixing with the human population would make humans extinct, but now that he thought about it, Danse couldn't see that happening. Synths may not be able to procreate, but it was unlikely that every human would end up in an intimate relationship with a synth. Humans would continue to reproduce, and even if the rate of birth declined, it wouldn't stop. Besides, the wasteland probably couldn't handle overpopulation now such as the world had before the Great War. It was hard enough to find food as it was, and more people would just make it more difficult.

Not to say that stopping the creation of synths was a bad thing - it wasn't. The Institute needed to be stopped, and that meant all of its misdeeds, including synthetic people. But that didn't mean that the ones already created needed to be destroyed. Not outright, anyway. Petra and Everly were right - synths deserved a chance to try living in peace and the opportunity to make their own choices. There was no reason to attack them unless there was definite proof they would harm someone.

"The synth chip," Danse inquired, "what exactly does it do, if not control us?"

"You know what a mind wipe is," DiMa started, and when Danse nodded he continued. "Because synths are created as adults, all the knowledge and experience a human adult would know must be given to that synth at the time of their creation. The chip contains this information, and feeds it into the brain when the synth is brought to life. The chip's sole purpose once that is complete, is to provide the Institute with a way to eliminate all the memories the synth has created and to prevent that synth from continuing an undesired behavior."

DiMA shifted in the chair, as if it were seeking a more comfortable position, then continued his speech.

"The brain is an electrical organ, sending and receiving impulses that tell the body how to move. The chip can block these signals, effectively putting the synth into an induced coma, allowing whoever has control of that synth to erase the memories and experiences that synth had made upon waking. A mind wipe cannot, however, take away the synth's personality. Who they were the first time, is who they will be every time they are allowed to come back. They start over, make new memories, have new experiences that may or may not shape them differently, but at the core they are the same."

Danse pondered this briefly and tried to flesh it all out. "So if a synth had a tendency to violence, then they would always end up resorting to violence, the same as a human with violent tendencies."

DiMA blinked. "That is correct," and then it smiled. "And if a synth possessed the will and desire to seek justice so that others were treated fairly and sought to protect the innocent, then even after a mind wipe and a second chance, that synth would fall back on those core traits, likely putting themselves in a position to make those desires a reality."

He knew the synth was referring to him, though he didn't know how it knew about him. Maybe Everly had told it about him while he was exploring, though he didn't believe she would divulge so much.

He eyed the synth warily. "If everything I've done since escaping has been my choice - assuming that's what happened - then it would stand to reason that the results of those actions are mine to bear." Danse glanced off and added, "The pain and regret I believe I feel is mine, or..."

He let it trail off. He had no idea how to put his question into words.

"You wonder if your feelings are real and not just programming," DiMA elaborated for him, "whether your emotions are your own, or if they are a fabrication of computer anomalies."

Danse gave a short, almost imperceptible nod.

The synth stood up then, moving a few feet away before turning back to face him. "Data is easy to migrate, but feelings... that's a hard thing to transfer into another mind, and impossible to program."

Danse blinked uncertainly but didn't argue, yet DiMA seemed to understand his hesitation to believe him.

"The key to understanding is simply to consider the difference between apathy and empathy. You see, programming is much like apathy. A machine recognizes someone crying and infers that the person is in physical or mental pain; it may rub their back to comfort them because it knows from its programming that would be the proper response, yet it cannot relate to their emotions. It can show no remorse for any pain it has caused, because it cannot relate. On the other hand, true emotion is like empathy. Another person's distress becomes real to you. You feel fear or anger in response to what caused their pain; regret and guilt for your actions that hurt others. Reactions can be programmed, but emotions cannot."

That made sense, but was it true? Did he dare ask about his feelings for Everly? By DiMA's theory, it certainly meant that Danse cared for her. After all, it hurt him to see her injured or upset. He hated being the cause of her pain.

"Do synths.... Can I.... love?" he asked reluctantly.

"Do cats meow?"

Danse scowled. "How is that an appropriate response?"

DiMA chuckled. "Pardon my attempt to lighten the mood. To answer more directly: Every emotion you experience is your own. It's up to you to decide if you love someone or not."

The next question was even more embarrassing than anything he'd inquired about so far. He hesitated to ask, and wondered why it even mattered that putting the query into spoken words to the cyborg was so mortifying.

"When I... that is, um..." he rubbed the back of neck and his face flushed hot with embarrassment, "Being with someone...intimately..."

The act of sex itself wasn't the issue here - he'd never had any complaints about not being 'normal' - about lacking anything. No, his concern was more about whether or not the desire for it came strictly from programming, whether it was purely physical need, or if it could stem from something deeper. Humans were capable of sex as a result of the love they felt for another, and desiring to show that person how they felt through physical affection. Was he able to do the same?

DiMA stepped close to him, and once again seemed to read his thoughts.

"Physical desire is not the result of coded instructions from the Institute. You are not a machine, and a chip in your head does not dictate what you feel or desire towards another person."

"I can't give what a human man can create."

DiMA's ocular orbs seemed to fill with compassion as Danse stood under the robots gaze.

"Do all human men have the ability to procreate? From my understanding, before the Great War there were clinics people went to for help when they couldn't conceive."

Danse considered this. If it were true - and Petra would be able to verify it if it were - then maybe he didn't have to feel so insignificant and lacking, after all. Then again, any woman he might consider having a relationship with would likely want children that he couldn't give her. It would likely lessen his chances of finding someone he could spend his life with, assuming of course that he lived through the destruction of the Institute.

"But I'm not human," he argued.

And that in itself was another matter to ponder. He would outlive a human woman by decades, if not infinitely. Synths didn't age, after all. Or did they? He certainly felt older than when he'd joined the Brotherhood over a decade ago. His knees and shoulders sometimes ached when it rained, and he wasn't as quick or flexible as he used to be. Was that normal wear and tear on the synth body, or was it because he was getting older?

"Your biology suggests otherwise. No one is perfect, especially not humans."

"You've given me a lot to think about," he told the synth. "I... Well, um....Thank you."

He walked off deep in thought to find a quiet spot where he could contemplate all he'd been told, oblivious to the several sets of eyes watching him as he left.

 


End file.
